


A Choice With No Regrets

by holmesfreak1412



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, F/F, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Mystery, Serial Killers, Suspense, Time Travel, frameup, whodunit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-06-24 03:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19715668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holmesfreak1412/pseuds/holmesfreak1412
Summary: When a cold case gets her older brother killed, the gods seem to have seen it fit for Margaery to travel fifteen years backwards in her hometown, where keeping Sansa Stark from being murdered like she originally was is the only guarantee to save Loras and spare Margaery from one of the biggest regrets she carries until the present.





	1. i could have saved her

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Here I am with a multichapter fic that I have been working on for a while. This is based on the manga "The Town Without Me". so there were a lot of scenes inspired by it. Please be warned that this contains sensitive topics.

**A Choice with No Regrets**

_In the end, we only regret the chances we did not take_

**Prologue**

She was in a good place, she thought more often than not Few people could boast a stable job at twenty-nine, much less a good income. She was lucky, even when a treacherous thought would come lodged on the back of her mind from time to time. _What if I have done it in another way?_ the whisper would say. But the idea barely solidified into some form of regret before its fled in lieu of her gratitude. Some people do not even turn twenty-nine.

Midlife crisis, the magazines at work would name this feeling for her but she shrugged it off because it did not really do a good job in explaining her train of thought these days. Case in point, she’s only approaching thirty and she has everything she could ever ask for. She closed cases. She accepted more. Many a battered wife covered in bruises ranging from black to blue goes home with a hopeful smile when they leave her office.

“We don’t choose the people we love.” She would say each time a domestic abuse victim would spiral down to the inevitable self-loathing. “What we can choose is what we do about it. it is never too late.”

She dreaded those few times that she was. Too late, that is. It does not get easier.

She liked helping people and relished the thanks she inevitably got every time she closed the case. Social work was a rewarding field and it got her name on well-wisher’s lips more often than not. Perhaps, hearing people mull over wrong decisions all day made her reflect on her own

Except, she couldn't really put a finger on what exactly she was supposed to regret. 

“At least you get to save lives.” Of course, it was Loras that tried to placate her. Sweet, summer child Loras who never had to stay as the battered wife sob their hearts out. He got to see the action, never the consequences. “Domestic violence can go to zero to a hundred really quick.”

“I know.” she sighed, fingering on the endless pile of paper work left on her desk. It was always lunchtime when Loras visited and any normal person would have gone and buy herself some coffee and donuts. Loras was the normal one of the duo and she was thankful for his overbearing, big brother presence on hectic days like these. “I just could not stop thinking how trusting the wrong person can lead to… a mess like what I have to deal with every single day.”

How loving the wrong person can lead to a mess, was what she did not say.

The conversation thankfully drifted to the less philosophical. Loras would be the type to say that love is a risk and it is a risk worth taking. Margaery was truthfully not in the mood for subtle steering to the dismal topic of her love life now. They talked about their grandmother, their parents, Garlan’s marriage and Willas’ health. Loras eventually tried to coax Margaery again to date someone he knew and she declined in the most exasperated way possible.

“Your loss.” Loras shrugged. He got to gush about Renly right after and his voice rose, as her brother excitedly talked about his whirlwind romance with the city’s prosecutor.

They tried not to talk about their cases but somehow the topic was breached when Loras suddenly mentioned how the missing child case that had kept him busy this week had been finally solved. “We found her on the streets yesterday, shaken but otherwise uninjured.” The audible relief in his voice was unmistakable and Margaery could understand why. One constant that she saw in her own cases were how such traumatic events could affect children in their formative years. It was better than turning up dead in a ditch somewhere but still… “We can’t afford to have another serial abduction in our hands. Not when this gang-related violence still keeps our plates full.”

“Were there any clues to the kidnapper?” she ventured, wondering if this case would worm itself into their department soon.

“Not that I heard of. I’m not assigned to the case so I do not get firsthand accounts.” There was a telltale sign of frustration in her brother’s voice. “Which is a shame…”

Loras may wear his heart on his department-issued sleeves but he rarely ever demonstrated personal interest in any case. Margaery’s brows furrowed in curiosity, prompting him to continue.

Her brother took the hint. “I do not know if you remember. Your memories may be hazy but something similar happened when we were young. I was in high school then and you were in eighth grade. Grandmother tried so hard to make you forget what happened.” Loras’ lips curled into a thin line in reminiscence. “You were in so much danger back then.”

….

.

Her memories had indeed been hazy but it was nothing that a quick internet search could not remedy. Fifteen years ago, in the town she grew up in, one of her classmates went missing.

Margaery had been a social butterfly then and she was known to befriend even the worst of outcasts. It took a lot to get into a good side of the man who cleaned their school for a living. The Hound was not the friendliest of men and his gruff appearance, with half of his face scarred by burns, did not make things easier. It was not really his name but that was what students have taken into calling him. He kept to himself and never bothered anyone. Margaery always made sure to greet him as kindly as she could when they pass by each other in the halls, even when the response was nothing more than a wordless grunt.

She did not mind. The attention she had wanted was given to her. Her classmates gushed on how Margaery Tyrell was so friendly, that even the infamous Hound could not resist her.

Six months after the disappearances, Sandor Clegane was arrested for serial kidnapping and murder.

It was The Hound. 

Loras phoned the evening they were supposed to have dinner together and surprised Margaery when he took a rain check. “I was given the case.” He said, without much preamble. Margaery gave him the obligatory little-sister encouragement and made him promise that they would see each other within the week still. They had since talked several times about the case, even as weeks passed. It did not really surprise her anymore how Loras had been so invested on a case that happened more than a decade ago. It had been so close to heart. Margaery agreed that if things had happened differently, she would have been the one listed in the casualties and not Sansa Stark.

_Sansa Stark._

Her recollection of the girl was much hazier than what she remembered of the once-school janitor who was now on death row. The black and white, grainy photo an old internet article attached did not jog concrete memories of the sad, red-haired girl she always saw seated at the park bench every night. One such night had been the one when she disappeared. Margaery, reportedly, had been the last person to see her alive.

_If only I had asked her to walk home with me._

She remembered then, how adamant she had been in insisting that thought when she was interviewed by the police. Grandmother probably tried so hard to make her forget it. She did, eventually but Margaery wondered if the all-consuming regret she had felt then were just one of those that she could not even identify now.

Perhaps no amount of therapy could fix the guilt.

_I could have saved her._

Loras called her days later to postpone their dinner date once more. He sounded exhausted even through the phone and Margaery was not so heartless to complain, even in jest. Loras told her how their department was under an insane amount of pressure. There had been no more disappearances in the last few weeks but the town was determined not to let another Sandor Clegane get away with five kills before being caught.

To this day, ever since the first trial, the man Margaery remembered as The Hound maintained his innocence.

There had been momentary silence on the right after Loras offhandedly mentioned that the execution date for Clegane had been finalized. His words are careful, hesitant when he asked. “Do you still believe that he is innocent, Margaery?”

….

…

It was one of the many things that she chose to forget during that time of her life and it took her a night of tossing and turning on her bed to remember the details of her interview with the police. She did not know Sansa well, she remembered telling the men who came to question her. But she did know The Hound. The man fed birds in the park, even when he insisted that they were stupid creatures. Her testament to his character had been dismissed then and it would be of no use now.

She did not watch the televised execution and chose to devote herself in the mundane. Day after day she closed cases of domestic violence and gives children a new life. She may not have been able to walk Sansa Stark home that night but she would like to think she could save lives now. Margaery got to work with renewed passion, just as Loras evidently did now, judging by the amount of dinner dates he had to cancel on her.

To his credit, he still had the courtesy to phone her in advance. The reschedules had been so frequent to the point that it was Margaery who suggested that he should just call her whenever he was ready, to which Loras was overly enthusiastic in regaling her as the _best sister ever_. It did not take a week after that before her phone’s screen lit up again. Loras offered to come over tonight and she better cook something decent.

“I think I’m close.” He said to her breathily. There was excitement in his tone, one that she only heard when he told her about Renly. “And I think you are right. All those years ago.”

There were ashes on her mouth when Margaery muttered. “Right on what?”

“That Clegane is innocent.”

He promised to tell her more, once they see each other. Loras would be coming over earlier than she can clock out and she told him of the spare key under the false brick on her doorstep. The drive that which fueled her energy to finish the mountain of paperwork on her desk was replaced by a feeling she did not want to put a name on and she does not like it one bit.

 _She could have saved him._

….

…

Loras never made it to dinner.

**(TBC)**


	2. we are both fakes

A few days after the funeral, Renly was a mess.

She liked the man well enough and could certainly see what her late brother saw in him but the shell of the man curled on his bed was not the same one who charmed the pants off the rather finicky Loras. The full beard he used to sport had gone astray, frizzing in all directions, bloodshot eyes the only glow in his gaunt face. In only a few days after the funeral, Renly Baratheon had managed to looked more of a corpse than Loras did…

She tried not to think of it and swallowed the persistent lump on her throat. Instead, Margaery strode further into the rooms her brother once lived in, headed purposefully to the windows and drew the blinds open.

With some grim satisfaction, she heard a muffled groan.

The place had seen better days and she could tell that Renly had not showered for more. Margaery’s heart broke for him and her gut churned but she had to do this. She owed that much to Loras. Renly’s sun may have set but Margaery could not afford for him to lose the will to light a candle.

“Loras did not take time to gush all about you to see you waste away.” She said softly, not facing him. In the sudden brightness, she could see the entire bedroom in all its glory, touches of which was distinctly the older brother she lost. His uniform was still hung on the closet and his favorite deodorant brand was still on his vanity. She thought that if she stayed longer, she could smell him again. Perhaps, this was why Renly had deigned to lock himself in.

Her tone was laid with much more empathy when she plowed on. “Save your anger for whoever’s responsible. You are going to need a lot of it.”

She did not wait for a response nor did she grace the man another look. Margaery exited as suddenly as she came in, knowing full well that she has done her part. After all, if there was anyone who loved Loras as much as she did, it was Renly.

And in a time where the innocents were killed and the guilty ran scot-free, Margaery needed an ally.

…

Running became a much needed drug.

It had been a good way to forget, taking two steps at a time while circling the park. She had been good at it. She still was. Margaery had once imagined that had she taken running seriously and competitively, Myranda Royce probably would not have the Olympic career she was basking in now. Margaery had not thought of her in years. Margaery had not thought of any of her classmates for a while. But memories of Sansa Stark had brought back a wave of recollections she forgot she had. In all of them, Sansa was alive. The Hound wa alive. Loras was alive.

She relished the quiet pathway, the determined sound of her footfalls and the wind slapping in her face. For a moment she was able to imagine that the sheer speed of her steps can lead her wherever Loras was. Where The Hounds was. Where Sansa was.

The night that she received the fateful phone call would come down as the worst night of her life.

She doubled the speed, not wanting to think. King Landing’s Park always prided itself to be the little aberration of such a modernized, urban city. The trees around the track had not been native to the area but the Department of Parks and Recreation had been keen on maintaining the greenery so well, it almost resembled a jungle. The park back home had been nothing like this. The forest around had been natural. A dead body can be hidden for years if no one looks…

Margaery willed herself to stop thinking and for a long moment, she managed to.

In retrospect, when she would think about how it all started, she had no idea how it did. There had been nothing off with her surroundings. For all intents and purposes, it was a normal day in King’s Landing. There had been no indication that a quick jog would change her life so much.

She must have been running for such a long time because by the time she became more conscious of what was around her, the green was gone. The sight before abruptly went to a residential area she did not remember ever seeing in the raging metropolis that was King’s Landing. It looked vaguely familiar but she could not place it.

“Marg!” called an unfamiliar voice. There were footsteps and a solid weight bumps into her. Margaery caught her breath, trying not to freeze at the assault but the attacker had by then, relieved her off the tackle and was already facing her.

It was a teenager.

A tall one certainly, for she towered over Margaery. Deep blue eyes stared expectantly on her, a small smile painted on her lips. The girl tussled her short, black hair sleepily as she continued on. “What seems to be the rush? You’re running like your life depended on it. I mean school is sort of like that but…”

And it was only then, during the confusion as the girl went on and on about a topic Margaery had not been in the position to think of for years, that she felt something off on her shoulders. The strap of a backpack she did not remember bringing dug uncomfortably on a white blouse she did not remember wearing. She stood there, staring down at her clothes as the teenager before prattled on.

“I haven’t even finished that essay. I just mean.... Ugh. I hate mornings.” As though finally noticing her unresponsive demeanor, the girl’s forehead furrowed. “Were you listening to me just now, Marg?”

Mya Stone, her mind suddenly supplied, now fully recognizing the rather tomboyish girl from her past. And for a moment, Margaery wondered if some way or another, she was hit by a car while running. Because Mya Stone was her age and there was no way, she would still look this young when she already bore her husband two children, last time she heard.

And Margaery had seen her, not even two years ago. No cosmetic technology could have retracted the lines marred by age and smoothened it back to the visage that she was seeing now.

She was still standing in awe when the teenager that looked so much like her highschool friend shrugged and started dragging her by the elbow. “Never mind. Let’s go. There’s hell to pay if Baelish starts deducting off points for tardiness again.”

Margaery, in her muted surprise, let herself be taken to a place that came out of her yearbook. In 2019, Westeros Private School had been renovated with a more futuristic façade worthy of a Hollywood shooting ground, causing many a reunion to feature complaints about how things only got better after they graduated and not when they were studying there. The Westeros Private School before her eyes was the same exact school she went into and if that was not proof enough, a red tarpaulin hung in the gates like a death sentence.

_Welcome! A.Y 2003-2004._

_…._

Margaery Tyrell of fifteen years ago was nothing short of an epitome for organization and she found herself grateful of her younger self’s penchant on writing things down when she saw that the front page of her notebook was graced with her schedule for the whole year.

_English Literature. Room 205._

The girl, who she was certain was Mya now, apparently was in the same class.

The teacher was much more recognizable, even when she has not seen the man in more than a decade. Petyr Baelish was by no means an imposing man but she remembered her as a man to effortlessly command attention through his inherent eloquence, something quite unheard of in a middle school literature class.

Him being a competent teacher also extended to the fact that he actually cared whether his students come to the class or not. The man was already in the room by the time Mya semi-dragged Margaery to first period, writing down the date and the agenda of the day on the white board.

_June 15 th. _

“What’s wrong Miss Tyrell?” The man suddenly spoke, looking at her with raised eyebrows. He had a hand casually resting on his hip. “Take your seat.”

She wondered what she looked like then, standing on the doorway like a deer caught by the headlights. It was then that she realized that she had no idea where to sit. Mya has long since taken her place, her back on Margaery. Both sides of her were already taken by people Margaery knew she should recognize. Margaery, now resigned to a risk, stepped forward and took the one closest to her.

“Still half-asleep, Tyrell? That’s Stark’s desk.”

_Sansa Stark._

From the corner of her eye, she saw a girl with platinum blonde hair wordlessly gesture on the desk beside her. Her memory was coming in frustrating bits and pieces and Margaery recalled once more that Baelish was a big fan of seating arrangement and was a stickler on adherence. With a smile that felt all too awkward, she slipped into her seat and came face to face now with a much more familiar face. It was almost comforting. Daenerys Targaryen would later grow up to be one of the most prominent figures abolishing slavery in Essos fifteen years later. She would not have guessed that from a rather quiet girl who she remembered now had been her seatmate in Baelish’s class.

The girl looked at her and for a moment, Margaery saw a flash of curiosity cross those unique, violet eyes before it disappeared as the other girl greeted her with a polite nod. Margaery felt out of place.

_She is not supposed to be here._

“Monday morning.” Baelish mused out loud. “Seems like Sansa Stark could not make it again today.”

_Why did I end up here?_ she thought amidst Baelish’s drone about Macbeth and Shakespeare. She wondered for a second time of the day if this was what a patient in coma feels like. Was there any truth to the life flashes before your eyes theory when dying? Had she been running so fast that she managed to travel back in time?

Each thought that came became more ridiculous than the other. But there was one thing Margaery was at the very least sure of. The sound of Baelish’s voice booming in the classroom felt real. Daenerys Targaryen beside her felt real. Her awkward fifteen-year old body felt real. Sansa Stark’s seat being empty felt real.

She thought back on the time Baelish did his usual roll call at the start of the class, how he had sighed in exasperation when he called Sansa Stark’s name.

_Alive._ She finally concluded with some emotion she cannot fully name. Sansa Stark was still alive.

“Margaery? Are you okay?”

Daenerys has her eyes on her, frowning in concern. Around them, students start filing out of the room for second period. Margaery hadn’t even noticed that they have been dismissed already.

“You look pale.”

Right before his death, Loras had been deeply involved in the Sansa Stark case, diving into the crime that condemned Sandor Clegane into the guillotine. Days after the execution, Loras had come to her, saying that he had been innocent all this time. Hours later, he turned up dead. Loras had been on his way to her place, with a promise to tell her more about what he found out.

Had he discovered something he shouldn’t have?

Suddenly, it all clicked into one place, even when most of it still did not make sense. Sansa Stark had been in the middle of everything and she was still alive in this timeline. “I have a bit of a headache.” She told Daenerys, who merely raised a brow in question. “I think I am going to stop by the clinic.”

“Okay.” The girl responded and Margaery knew that the girl did not believe her. Right now, she could care less. “I’ll tell the teachers.”

…..

…

She was out of the building in record time, sprinting towards home with a definite purpose because she now knew that Loras is very much alive in this timeline. She has been given a chance to be with her brother again and she did not intend to waste it.

The school gates were closed but a signed sent-home slip can do wonders. It did not take Margaery much to coax it out of the school nurse’s ledger. The guards did not bother to question her in her haste and she barely let the sight of a red-haired girl entering the school just as Margaery left linger on her mind. Seeing Loras again became the foremost priority.

Loras was not home when she finally retraced her steps back to her childhood home.

_Of course_ , she scolded herself. _He would be in school now._

Loras and her were not far apart in age but they only grew to be equals when they reached adulthood. The Loras in this timeline would have been the same cocky teenager who thought a few years ahead of her in the academic ladder was wisdom. And she would not have it any other way.

This was the starting point and the key to saving Loras lies on something she would change in this time. She would not lose this time around, 

Loras came home for dinner that night.

….

.

Sansa Stark came to Lit class the next day.

And memories once again washed her over as she stared at this Sansa, very much still part of the living. The grainy picture shown in the news of Sandor Clegane’s execution did not do much justice in preserving the girl. Sansa Stark had been beautiful, even through the sad, sad blue eyes that dimmed way before she passed away.

Sansa Stark was beautiful and Margaery wondered what she would look like if she actually smiled.

She realized then, as the girl slipped into her seat, that it was not the first time she has thought of that. Once upon a time, when Margaery was a real fourteen-year old and not merely an impostor who wanted to change the damning future without Loras, she had been on exactly the same train of thought.

_I could have saved her._ Her younger self had grieved, begging for the blame she felt she deserve.

_I could save her,_ her much older self whispered and there came resolve. She thought of the gods had put her here, in her younger self’s body, to save not only Loras but Sansa as well. Nothing else had made sense until that epiphany comes to take over her bearings and did not let go.

The class continued like it should, taking off from the intricacies of the Shakespeare sonnet like they did yesterday. Sansa did not talk, scribbling on her notes without acknowledging her seatmate or contributing anything on the class discussion. Baelish would direct a question once or twice. Sansa never responded with anything bordering on the impressive or stupid. If there is anything she was particularly good at, it was how not to draw attention to herself.

She must have been staring so long, so attentively. Otherwise, Margaery would not have noticed the bruises on her legs when Sansa’s skirt hiked up for just one, single moment.

“You have been staring at her.” Daenerys’ voice mentioned just right after the bell rang. Once more, the girl sent Margaery an inquisitive look, head cocked sideways. There was this sense of déjà vu after being confronted twice in a row by the same girl. Daenerys was more observant than Margaery anticipated. “Sansa Stark.”

Margaery wondered then how apparent that is. If Sansa felt her eyes on her too, boring into her back.

“Was I?” She knew that denial was futile. Daenerys was always a smart fellow, shrewder than Margaery would have preferred for a seatmate. She wondered idly if Daenerys can see her for who she is – someone who was not supposed to be here.

“Have you read the poems in the student publication?”

The sudden change of topic confused her and for a moment, Margaery was tongue-tied.

Daenerys only responded with a nonchalant shrug. “I would have thought you did. It’s really interesting. Read it when you have the chance.” She smiled. “You are feeling much better now, aren’t you? Let’s go. Mr. Pycelle is not Mr. Baelish but I would not want to be called out so early in the school year.”

They proceeded to the next class without speaking. Margaery thought of the school paper from last year and hoped that she managed to keep a copy of it somewhere in her room.

….

…

Margaery was a woman of action, born from the attitude as a social worker that immediate resolution was always what would help avoid the telltale worst-case-scenarios. When the bell rang for the end-of-the-day, she decided that she would talk to Sansa.

They did not share the last class and so she did not get the opportunity to do it until she realized that Sansa was already nowhere in sight. Asking around proved to be a fruitless effort. Sansa came and went to the school like a ghost. She did it so well that Margaery remembered contemplating how her eventual disappearance and death could have such a huge effect through the rest of the school year.

She did not remember precisely when it would happen but she knew for a fact that she had since celebrated her nameday after the disappearance. She remembered not holding a party, still feeling guilty that she would celebrate her own when Sansa could not. She would turn fifteen in less than thirty days. Between today and July 10, Sansa would disappear.

And turn up dead days later, like Loras did.

It could be tomorrow. It could be next week. Margaery would rather not take risks.

Thinking of Sansa’s disappearance made her have a sudden burst of inspiration. True enough, she caught sight of a tall figure with red hair on the same park she had last seen Sansa before she got murdered.

She was sitting idly on the grass, legs crossed and staring at nothing in particular. Margaery took a few cautious steps towards the girl, careful not to startle her but a couple of steps shy of being close enough, Sansa turned to face her, eyes wide with askance.

“Hey.” She greeted, suddenly feeling awkward. It was then that Margaery realized that she did not really have a good reason to speak with Sansa Stark out of the blue.

“Hi.” Her tone was polite enough but the frown the girl cannot conceal was proof that Margaery’s attention was unwelcome.

There was a long silence as they stared at each other. She has been in many uncomfortable conversations in her life, owing to her career but nothing had prepared her into trying to coax a shy, introverted girl who barely talked to her classmates by choice, into some semblance of friendship. Margaery was not even sure if she and Sansa has anything that can be exploited as a common ground.

She realized that she did not know Sansa Stark all that well.

“You weren’t in English class yesterday.” Margaery settled to an information that she was certain of. She thought of the dark, ugly bruise on Sansa’s legs and swallowed the bile forming on her throat.

“You went home early yesterday as well.” Sansa pointed out. She drew her knees into a different position, avoiding Margaery’s eyes. “I saw you.”

“Family emergency.” She supplied. “Nothing I cannot handle though.”

There was silence once more as Sansa took to plucking the grass near her feet instead of responding. Margaery knew the signs. She has seen the symptoms in the numerous cases that she had to handle. Something has been going on with Sansa even before she got killed.

And Margaery would find out exactly what.

“I want us to be friends.” Margaery blurted out. “Good friends! I mean, our houses are on the same direction. We can walk together if you want to.”

The words had the desired effect. Sansa momentarily paused from demolishing the grass patch and looked up. The faint expression of distrust and doubt was not what Margaery was aiming for though even when it was something expected.

When Sansa spoke, it was soft and quiet but the words rang a sound that made Margaery’s gut churn with something she could not name. “Why are you saying that to me….” Sansa breathed out. It was bordering on accusatory. ‘… out of all people?”

It never got easier. Margaery had dealt with these classic cases of inferiority and lack of self worth from abuse victims. Sansa was no different than many a battered wife that she had to sit down and have tea with, in hopes of inspiring them. It never got easier. Things feel a lot more complicated when it was a fourteen-year old girl giving you the same exact look that did not look good in adults. When it was someone she knows fully well would be murdered in weeks.

But no client of hers has ever said the following words to her face. “But I think I understand.” Sansa’s lips pursed into a thin line as she pressed on. “You and I are both fakes, Margaery Tyrell.”

She stood then and Margaery can see that the girl is almost a head taller than her. “Family emergency.” Sansa muttered as she dusted herself off. “Family really is important, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Margaery was too dumbfounded to say something more coherent. She was twenty-nine and an adult and yet, Sansa took her words out of her.

“I see.” Sansa moved to leave.

“Wait.” Margaery rushed to take Sansa’s wrist. “Wait, Sansa! I really wanted to be friends.”

The flinch that crossed Sansa’s face made Margaery hurriedly let go of her hand like she has just been burnt. Sansa’s eyes were downcast as she said the word _friends_ with venom she did not expect from the girl.

“Would you kill someone for me, if I ask you to?”

_I could have saved her._

Margaery did not know what to say.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


	3. it's easy to talk to you these days

_You and I are both fakes, Margaery Tyrell._

Margaery did not think that she was found out. An adult stuck in a teenager’s body was hardly something that would qualify as inference even if she had been acting differently than her real teenage self. But the words rang true to her all the same and she could not stop thinking about it as she dug through her school stuff last year to find the Student Publication Daenerys wanted her to read.

She remembered it then, how the English teacher during their second year of middle school made it a point to have them create an essay or poem of their own to publish for the Student Publication. Daenerys was a smart girl and she would not have mentioned it without harboring some kind of goal. What she found sitting on her desk was a booklet bearing a drawing of a soaring bird on the cover. It indicated the year in which it was published and an introduction in which it credited the entire student population as its contributor. One had to admire their subtlety in implying that school paper committee was not one to be blamed for its quality.

Margery did not remember this project to be particularly interesting, which was probably why they discontinued it in the following years. The student’s essays were arranged alphabetically by name. She found Sansa’s easily enough and began to read.

There was an illustration beside the poem: a hand drawn penciled sketch of a tree bearing red leaves. There was only one she had seen around town: the very park that would be Sansa Stark’s grave. She fingered the page idly, trying to get a sense of Sansa through the printed ink.

_Red leaves, white trunk, dying branch_

_You don’t do well in the south, don’t you, little tree?_

_Red hair, pale face, cutting words that make a young girl blanch,_

_Every day of my life I ask myself, would I ever be free?_

_The south grows flowers, my heart grows stone_

_Winter in the north, all but a distant thought_

_Red blood flows as bruises litter the bone_

_Makes me ponder, does it matter that I fought?_

_The pack perished, the lone wolf is left,_

_Can I go to the place where they are kept?_

It was a silent cry for help, raw but reticent, one that Daenerys herself must have read judging from her reaction on Margaery’s sudden interest with Sansa. The girl must have surmised that she had read the essay and detected the clear SOS vibe it was giving. She was a shrewd one, Margaery admitted to herself. Fifteen years after this, Daenerys would become a woman worth admiring. Margaery wondered for the first time during her first two days in this timeline whether she can have an ally.

She had to get to know Sansa first, find out more about her family background and her situation now. Establishing a common ground with her was the first step in causing a change in the chain of events that would lead to a crime within the next several days. If Margaery was able to change how Sansa acted on the days leading to her death, Margaery can save her.

Margaery can save Loras.

It was not until she was in bed later that she mused how she did not remember what she herself wrote for the student publication all those years ago.

….

….

What would be primarily known as The Hound Murders canonically claimed five victims. Margaery regretted not having focused in the number of documentaries that every local channel featured in the wake of Sandor Clegane’s execution. What she knew for sure was that all victims lived around the area, Sansa was the only victim from her school and she had been fourteen when she died.

And that she had been found in the canopy close to the park where Margaery saw her last. She had been dead for three days then.

But the most pressing question was _when._ For all Margaery knew, she was already running out of time.

“You haven’t been sitting with us.” It was her cousin, Elinor who suddenly came into her view just as she was about to look for a seat. The girl had her arms crossed, mouth curled into a scolding pout. Margaery realized that in all her focus, she had forgotten how she had been close to her even when they were in different grades and thus, different classes. 

“I have been busy.” She responded pleasantly, glad to have found something familiar amidst all the mystery surrounding Sansa. Elinor and her would grow closer as the years flitted by and was that one cousin-friend who stuck around. Looking at the much younger version of her cousin was quite disconcerting, especially since she just saw her in the funeral. She offered one outstretched hand as she precariously balanced her tray with the other. “Lead the way.”

She was led into a table full of recognizable faces, most of which she still kept in touch on a regular basis back in her time. Elinor prattled on about one thing or another, probably mooning about some boy who was her flavor of the week. That was something that remained unchanged until adulthood. Everyone else echoed her sentiments through predictably gushing and giggling. Meanwhile, Sansa Stark remained nowhere to be seen.

She was not in the library either, even as study period began. Margaery did not realize that she had been craning her head in search for her so much before Daenerys seemingly had enough.

She probably is huddled around the corner shelves or something.” Her lab partner said, closing the book she had been pretending to read. Daenerys looked at her quizzically, eyebrows raised. “You have been staring at her a lot.”

Margaery did not bother denying it and was fully prepared to shut down any of the other girl’s illusion when Daenerys continued. “Have you read her essay?”

It was the first time that Daenerys acknowledged the subtle clue that she had given Margaery about Sansa. Margaery leaned closer, childishly feeling like they were sharing some kind of conspiracy. “Yes.” She replied. She cocked her brows. “What do you make of it?”

She hadn’t known she had been whispering until she heard her own hushed tones. Margaery did not know what god made her be stuck with the silver-haired girl more frequently than their very different circle of friends would have allowed but she was for a moment, grateful.

Nobody else seemed to notice Sansa Stark other than Daenerys Targaryen.

Margaery tried not to think of the Daenerys Targaryen of her own time, helping parentless and labored children halfway across the world and how, if she had noticed Sansa Stark even without prompting, she would have had the same thought as Margaery did not realize she had this whole time.

_I could have saved her._

And perhaps, they shared the same regret too.

Perhaps as an adult, Daenerys Targaryen had been so preoccupied in saving people because she was not able to save Sansa.

“This may be stepping over the line.” Daenerys suddenly said, leaning slightly closer. She was pretty, the elegant and sophisticated sort of pretty. Purple eyes brimmed with intelligence Margaery knew would take her very far someday.

“But you seem like a totally different person now.” Daenerys continued. As though noticing she had startled Margaery, she shook her head. “Not that it was a bad thing. For some reason, I think it is really important that you have your mind on Sansa Stark. Did you get a chance to talk to her?”

“Once.”

“How did it go?”

“I think she is being honest with me.” Margaery said, remembering the talk they had in the park and sighed. “It could have gone better though.”

Margaery could have certainly said something and not just stood there when Sansa asked her to murder someone.

There was a ghost of a sad smile in Daenerys’ face, as though she understood perfectly well. “You can talk to me about anything then. I think I would like to help you in this very much.”

She had an ally.

Margaery chuckled softly and put her hand over Daenerys’s as a way to show her thanks. “Well then,” she intoned, smiling widely. She had made a decision. “I’d like to invite you to my birthday party.”

….

…

Sansa Stark was an orphan. Margaery gathered that much from her poem at the very least. Whether she lived in a foster home or somewhere else was up for question but someone was definitely abusing her. The grim note in her tone as she challenged Margaery to kill someone for her sake in exchange of friendship was telling enough.

Sansa Stark’s body had been found near the park Margaery saw her last. It was not the first time that Margaery had seen her there either. Sansa always stayed by the huge tree at the corner of the park, sitting on a patch of grass and staring at nothing. Margaery had never tried to talk to her. She would repeatedly mention this when she was interviewed by the police days after they found her corpse. _I could have saved her._

But Margaery Tyrell had been a fraud, a girl intent to making friends to further her position on the social ladder. Being nice to the social pariah they had for a school janitor made her seem like a nice girl to everybody else. Befriending the invisible Sansa Stark then would have given her nothing impacting on her image.

She was a fake.

She was a liar.

But Margaery has a lot to gain and everything else to lose if she did not do that now.

_I could have saved her._

She was still in the park several hours after the class dismissed for the day. The sun had set and the moon had risen right above the river. Margaery approached her like she did last time but this instance, she did not bother to conceal her arrival. “Sansa.”

Sansa looked up slowly and in the dim lights of the lamppost, she looked breathtaking. Sad, true but breathtaking. She straightened, tilting her head in askance. “How can I help you?”

Margaery resisted the very strong urge to quip that: _That’s my line._ “I already told you. I want us to be friends, good friends.” She trailed off, winking at her. “Although I definitely cannot kill anybody.”

“That was a joke.” _Obviously,_ she did not add. For all that Sansa Stark barely ever interacted with anyone, she had retained some modicum of courtesy. She seemed to debate her next words, wrestling to find the right ones to say until she decisively went on. “You’re pretending, aren’t you?” She finally settled. “Margaery Tyrell?”

“Hm?”

“Pretending to be nice. Pretending to be concerned. Pretending to be worried.”

Margaery gave her a wan smile. “Is that a bad thing?”

Sansa, to Margaery’s surprise, only shook her head. “I am not really one to talk.”

_You and I are both fakes._

“You may be right.” Margaery said, stepping forward and sat beside Sansa. “I was ‘acting’, most of the time. I want people to like me. I want to have friends. I used to be so socially inept that being liked by everybody felt like the best course of action.”

“Hm.” Sansa muttered, eyes drawn suddenly to the ground. She scoffed. “You? Socially inept?”

“I wasn’t the girl you are seeing now.” She moved to take the place beside Sansa. She did not react. “I was all elbows and knees then. My cousin even called ‘pigface’ at one point. You can imagine how traumatic that was.”

Sansa chose not to respond to that line of conversation. Instead, she murmured:

“Do you think that when you are pretending, it would become real along the line?”

It felt like a long time ago. But Margaery remembered Sandor Clegane, repeatedly insistent that he did not do it, he did not do it, he did not do it. Nobody listened and his lips were frozen, his body no more than sack of bones. The truth did not matter then. Sansa was the opposite. For someone so young, she had endured so much. She pretended to feel nothing and said nothing. She faked and lied.

“I am inviting you to my birthday party.” Margaery said instead, taking the girl’s hand. “I want you to come.”

Sansa’s blue eyes were wide with surprise. “You are inviting me?” She trailed off meekly. “There would be a lot of people in that, right?” She sounded anxious at the idea.

“I’ll try to just make it a small gathering of friends, my true friends. Who knows? Maybe, they can be yours too.” Margaery kept on talking as Sansa’s brow was furrowed in thought. “It’s in July 10th.”

Among other things, this seemed to startle Sansa more. “Oh!”

“You would come right?” Margaery ventured, squeezing the hand she was holding. “I really want you there, Sansa.”

With bated breath, Margaery waited for the response, hoping against hope that it would be to the affirmative. She had not known how Sansa would react. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Sansa sighed. “Sure.” For some reason, the quiet and rather noncommittal grunt that followed makes Margaery’s heart flutter.

She felt herself blushing as Sansa continued to regard her curiously. What she was embarrassed about, she was not sure. She was twenty-nine years old. A small, hesitant smile from a teenager, beautiful as she may be, should not affect her this much.

“Do you like scarves, Margaery?”

The topic drifted off to the less philosophical, just like it did with Loras in a time that felt so long ago but was actually the distant future. Sansa apparently liked fashion, as evidenced by the nice enough clothes she wore. Margaery contributed to the conversation as best as she could, even if she could barely remember what was fashionable in early 2000s.

“You know.” Sansa said suddenly, standing up from the grass. “It’s kind of easy to talk to you these days.”

“You too.” Margaery admitted, feeling herself flush. “Maybe because I decided to stop lying.”

They parted ways after that, a much more promising prospect than what transpired yesterday. The park was the last place that Margaery saw Sansa alive. It was a small step but she thought it would be a start if Margaery never let Sansa be left alone in that park ever again.

_I could have saved her._

“I will save you.” She said to the wind. She prayed that whichever god sent her here would hear her.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think.


	4. i thought you said you will never lie to me

The only time that the entire grade gathered was when their PE teacher held some kind of tournament. Today, it was a track and field show. Sansa was as put together as usual when she shuffled in her PE uniform, not one hair out of place but not so impressively neat that it caught attention. It was no wonder that nobody had noticed what is happening behind the scenes for so long. Sansa hid her bruises well enough through clean clothes and an unassuming aura, even when her sad, sad eyes could not. 

Sansa met Margaery’s stare from across the gym and nodded stiffly. Margaery gifted her an encouraging smile.

They started with warm ups, an exercise done with some cheesy, aerobics music in the background. Mr. Forel was energetic and Margaery was loathed to say, somewhat inspirational with the way that he phrased his instructions. Even the most awkward of nerds, with their spindly legs and arms that had only known books could not help but join in wholeheartedly.

Next came the races.

Dashing from one end of the court to the other was a basic PE activity. But for the next two hours, they would be grouped by twos, with them running against their partners. The randomizer saw to it that she was paired up with Myranda Royce, a girl who would grow up to be in National Team a few years later.

It was just a silly activity and Margaery was by no means, a sloppy runner. She would like to think that the discipline that she has an adult can let her win this, even if her teenage body was probably not ready for it.

Myranda gave her a cool nod once they were called for their turns.

This has happened before, Margaery realized with a start, watching as Myranda folded a knee in front of her. The cheers around her becomes an exercise of nostalgia. Forel instructed them to get ready, set the whistle on his mouth and blew. 

_Is it okay to win?_ Margaery asked herself, as she propelled herself to a dash. Myranda Royce would grow up to compete in the Olympics, breaking records after records and collecting medals after medals. She had been a blur in the field in every televised race that Margaery got to watch but for the life of her, Margaery could not remember who won this highschool race fifteen years ago. 

It was happening again now, on PE. Margaery had the disciplined tactic of her twenty-nine year old self even as she lacked the body of one. But Myranda Royce practiced day in and day out, motivated further by being the best of her year. Margaery did not know her well but she knew Myranda Royce well enough to deduce that she would not take to losing well.

The winner should be…

“Myranda Royce wins!”

Margaery was panting by the time she crossed the finished line, her senses dulled by the buzz of activity around her. Her head was heavier than usual when she looked up to Myranda, only to find her glowering in rage.

Margaery’s eyes barely have the time to widen when Myranda took her by the collar, her red face inches away from Margaery’s. “Why did you have to do that, Tyrell? You think you are better than me?”

Margaery was worlds away, fifteen years ago. And she remembered the exact, same scene with sudden clarity. Myranda Royce fuming in anger, all because Margaery Tyrell decided to not quite subtly lose on purpose.

It was all coming back to her full circle. The Myranda Royce in her time was not merely motivated to the top by being the best in her class. It was in fact, knowing that someone else could have beaten her. Margaery recalled then, how Myranda had never warmed up to her after that. And Margaery did not manage to change that one bit. 

“I hate people like you.” Myranda Royce spat out in disdain and stormed off.

….

….

“She was fast, real fast. Royce is definitely going places. One of them is probably college. I am just glad I gave her a run for her money though.”

Sansa’s response was cold silence. Margaery had found her in the park again after school, all alone and aimlessly staring at nothing. Sansa had left school without her, despite the unspoken promise of being friends, if nothing else. Neither the aloof manner in which Sansa treated her the rest of PE period nor Myranda Royce’s dirty looks would deter Margaery from ensuring that Sansa was never left alone in the park where she was abducted every again.

But the way Sansa was treating her now made Margaery feel that her presence was even more unwelcome than it was the last time.

They were back to square one once more and Margaery, to Sansa at least, was not exactly someone who was easy to talk to. All hard work gone to the drain and Margaery has an inkling why.

“Look, I know what it looked like. But Myranda was really--”

“I thought you said that you will never lie to me.”

The words felt every bit like the sense of foreboding she dreaded. A judgment passed by some trial. Sansa still refused to look at her and for once, Margaery wondered if she can stand it if she did. 

“I’m sorry.” Margaery finally relented. “For some reason, I just thought that Myranda should win today.”

She remembered then, once upon a time. She made the same mistake too, when she was fourteen. Margaery did not think that the twenty-nine year old could have beaten Olympic contender Myranda in a race but her fifteen-year old self definitely stood a chance. Not only now, that she was an adult in a teenager’s body. But before, when she was a clueless teenager who genuinely liked running. But even then, she did not want to be known to have beaten someone who had high dreams. She did not want to be disliked by someone she wanted to befriend for it. Myranda Royce ended up hating her for it anyway.

And in this timeline, she made the same mistake again. What’s more? She lost all progress she just made with Sansa Stark.

Time Paradox had been a silly sci-fi concept and Margaery had been adamant in not making the same mistakes again but the incident with Myranda Royce made her feel for a moment that she was doomed to repeat history.

“Hm.” Sansa stood, dusting herself. Margaery hurriedly followed suit, feeling lost as Sansa turned her back to her. “It does not matter.” She says.

“Sansa—“

“We’re both fakes and liars.” She finished and then just like that, Sansa shuffled away. The words she meant to contradict this were stuck in her throat. Margaery, normally eloquent and well-worded, was silent as she watched Sansa’s back disappear to the sunset.

“Got ditched by your little girlfriend, huh?” A gruff voice interrupted her grim thoughts. An alarmed, quick turn revealed who she immediately recognized as The Hound, his scarred face looking sterner as the sunlight faded. He was standing close to her and in his massive hand was a bag of bird feeds.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” She denied weakly. To which the enormous man only scoffed.

“Hn.”

He was an odd man, she thought as she watched him toss grain towards to ducks flocking the pond. Sandor Clegane had not told her to leave but was not the best conversationalist either. The janitor uniform had been ditched in favor of what clearly was a shirt that saw better days, dirtied as it was by grime and years of misuse. Somehow, The Hound made the silence far from comfortable. Margaery shifted and realized that there was no wonder he became a scapegoat.

A big, imposing man who took to feeding birds after his shift. It was easy to imagine a such strange, solitary man resort to killing a young girl who frequented the park as much as he did. But once upon a time, Margaery had believed in him when he held to his innocence. Loras eventually, thought so too.

And somehow, it got him killed.

Margaery realized, not for the first time, that she may end up saving more lives if she did the right thing.

There had been a lot of theories as to what led Sandor Clegane to begin his supposed killing spree, all of it stemming from the mystery of where he got the scars that covered half of his face. From a tragic car accident to abusive parents, there were no shortage of dissertations. In the end, shrinks trying to figure out the whys did not help him. Back in her timeline, Sandor Clegane met his end in the electric chair, like Loras met his in an alley and Sansa Stark in this very park.

“Do you know her?” It took three calls for attention for The Hound to acknowledge her, not without sighing in exasperation.

“Know who?”

“Sansa.” she voiced out. “Sansa Stark.”

“Oh, your little girlfriend.” Margaery did not bother to quip against his words any longer because he seemed to have graced her with a quick enough answer. “Quiet girl. Minded her own business.” The sarcasm was not lost on Margaery. “Better than some people I know.”

“What do you know about her?”

“Shouldn’t you know things about your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my—“ Feeling that the conversation was futile, Margaery exhaled. “I’m just worried about her. You must know this. You are here at the park as much as she is.” This, was an established fact she remembered that came up in the investigation. The very fact that would later make him a suspect. “Anything that you can tell me about her?”

“Is she your new pet project, huh?”

The words felt like an accusation and it struck a chord that played an unpleasant vibe. Sandor Clegane, back then had been a pet project. She had liked being seen as an angel incarnate, befriending even the ugliest of them all and she had made sure she was seen doing it. She knew this. A fake and a liar, Sansa had said. Hearing an iteration of the same label from another’s mouth did not make it any easier.

The Hound always had a way with his words. He was blunt and spoke in a no-nonsense way. This exterior did not in any way endear him in the media like the other more charismatic demons he had been lined up with.

_Tell me more about the way he talks,_ were one of the inquiries she was subjected to during her interrogation.

_Did you think he was a good person?_

What had made Margaery insistent that he was innocent had been difficult to explain for all her eloquence and even if she managed to, they were already determined not to believe her. The words of a fifteen-year old girl against everybody else fell on deaf ears. But Margaery knew, has always known, that Sandor Clegane spoke only the truth. Which was more than what Margaery can say about herself.

And so she decided to be truthful to him for once. “Yes.” She locked eyes with him. “I want to save her.”

Sandor looked pensive and thoughtful for the full minute that they stared at each other. The birds pecked on the feeds, squawking in unison. In her time, fifteen years later, he would become an inmate in death row. For all his fearsome exterior, Margaery thought she was right when she thought that he was innocent. If Sansa is never murdered, Sandor Clegane will never be a suspect.

….

…

The miniscule amount of information that she managed to weed out of Sandor Clegane led her to the Lannister home, a lush three story house situated on the wealthier side of town. His older brother, he mentioned, worked for the family. Sansa Stark had been fostered by them ever since her own family died.

Her poem made much more sense now. Sansa never felt quite at home because she was not. Tragedy had happened to Sansa long before she was killed.

The Hound could not tell her much about the Starks’ death. It was simply because he did not know. It was his brother who worked for the Lannisters. “And the cunt barely can string words into a sentence. Stories would be too much for him.” There was so much hatred, so much rage in which he regarded his brother. Margaery began to think, as she stared at the reddened patch of burnt skin on his face, that Sandor Clegane’s life must have been a series of unfortunate tragedies too.

The Lannister home was a residence that she had passed by on the way to school many times and never took notice. She had been right when she surmised that Sansa and her shared the same way home. From the outside, it was hard to judge why Sansa chose to stay in the park till the wee hours of the evening instead of going back home. The house, while its rich architecture boasted the wealth of its inhabitant, did not look in any way sinister.

She did not know what possessed her to go around all the way at the backyard rather than ring the doorbell like a civilized person should. She could not tell which one is Sansa’s room, as all the windows were shut. Margaery was not even sure what she hoped to accomplish by going here. Sansa clearly was in no mood to interact with her, if the fact that she decided to get home much earlier was any indication.

Margaery soon found herself at the back of the Lannister home. There was no garden, only an empty lawn with overgrown weed and a wooden shed at the center. It was as normal as it can be, especially in this side of town. But Margaery cannot shake the feeling that there was something really wrong.

And then she heard it.

She did not know what strength possessed her to run towards the shed and throw the door open but all words were robbed off her mouth as she beheld the prone figure of Sansa, in nothing but a ripped dress, lying down the floor of the shed.

From the little light that came from the doorway, Margaery could see the ugly bruises, all spattered on her arms and legs. She was trembling, choking on sobs that Margaery could tell she was trying so hard to make soundless. The sudden source of light seemed to have caught her attention as she listlessly looked at Margaery and mouthed something.

“Sansa—“

“Don’t look at me.” She finally heard the pleaded words as Sansa struggled to sit up. “Close it.”

“No. I’ll take you to hospital.” Margaery barely had time to take one step before Sansa screamed.

“I said, stay away from me!” And then she finally dissolved into helpless tears, curling into herself as she wheezed in pain. Margaery could do nothing but watch, heartbroken for every step she tried to take, Sansa would only try to desperately inch away.

“Sansa.”

The third voice, speaking the girl’s name with such stern regard, made Margaery shiver. She found herself face-to-face with a tall and beautiful, blond-haired woman. She has one arm casually holding the other as she walks, easily pushing Margaery away from the door. “You ran away again.”

The gasp she heard from Sansa made Margaery clench her fist in anger. She did this, she realized. She did this.

Sansa was already up to her feet when the woman dragged her out of the shed. Her face was stained and blotchy with tears but her mouth was muted. The woman had her by the arm and she looked every bit as dangerous when she turned to Margaery. “Go. Before I call the police for trespassing.”

Margaery resisted the urge to quip that she herself could call the police for more. The Lannisters were a powerful family and if she had their family tree correctly figured out, she was facing none other than Cersei Lannister herself. She could make things worse than it was for Sansa already, much, much worse. Margaery could not risk that.

But Margaery had to ask. “How did Sansa get hurt like this?”

Sansa’s eyes were downcast but her lips trembled at the question. Cersei only raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Tell her Sansa.” She implored, in a voice that in its softness should have sounded gentle but did not. “Tell your little friend about what happened.”

Sansa was still not looking at her when she finally croaked out. “I fell.”

_We’re both fakes and liars._

Margaery could not find the words to respond to Sansa’s sad lie and she could do just as much as Cersei led the girl away back inside.

**(TBC)**


	5. i will not turn forty

**Chapter Five**

Margaery came in to school early.

She has tossed and turned that night, mulling over the things that she did not do. Several time within the night, she brought herself back to that moment, before Cersei and Sansa. In her imaginings, she was more useful than she had been. A day later and Margaery had no idea what made her so stunned, so tongue-tied that she let Sansa out of her sight. Margaery had intervened in cases like these for a living and yet, Sansa’s sad lie made her lose all bearings she thought she had.

It was then that she realized that she did not really have a plan.

She had been incredibly naïve to think that keeping Sansa company over the next few weeks would make a difference. Sansa was already dying long before she did, at least mentally and emotionally. Suddenly, an unknown serial murderer lurking around town and possibly already murdering teenagers became the least of her problems. Cersei Lannister wormed herself as the antagonist of this story.

Coming in early had been futile as she did not get to speak to Sansa at all. Her seat remained vacant all throughout Baelish’s class, with no one commenting on her absence.

Except for Petyr Baelish himself.

A teacher could be an ally, she thought as she strode to his table when the bell rung. Margaery had known him to be quite cordial, even when he came off as too much of it at times. Nicety for a teacher was only good in small doses. Otherwise, he would have been branded as a creep. Margaery was still unsure which side of the spectrum she would put the man in but if there was one thing she was certain; it was that Petyr Baelish noticed Sansa which was more than she could say about anyone.

Including herself.

“So you’re saying you know the reason why Sansa was often absent during first period, Miss Tyrell?”

They were alone, the door to the classroom closed. Outside, the next class were milling about, waiting to be let in. it was not unheard of that a student would remain for a few minutes behind to be spoken to by a teacher. But Baelish was young and well-worded. Margaery knew that exiting this classroom after this would make her subject to unsavory rumors.

She could not care less.

The priority was Sansa. Her reputation could take a hit for all she cared. If there was anything being a twenty-nine year old stuck in her teenage self’s body was good for, it was the foreknowledge that her silly and puerile aspiration to be the school’s queen bee would not serve her in the long run.

“Cersei Lannister beats her.”

There was a frown on Baelish face as he considered Margaery’s statement thoughtfully. “I see. So you’ve noticed.”

Fear gripped Margaery’s heart as she mulled over how she may have misjudged the situation. Perhaps it was too much to think that an adult in this godforsaken town could be reliable. “You knew.” She gasped, horror creeping into her aghast tone. _And yet you did nothing._

“Well…”

“What is it?” She realized she was angry now. “Tell me.”

“I have been struggling on talking to the others about it. Even in the classroom, Sansa is cut off from everybody else, right? I just thought that if anyone knew she was being physically abused, she might get some unwanted attention.”

Margaery could not believe this. She clenched her fist. “I think Sansa’s welfare should take precedence over what a bunch of high schoolers would think.”

“I am glad you think that, Miss Tyrell.” There was a flash in Baelish’s eyes. It was quite clear he did not appreciate being talked to like that. Margaery struggled to hold herself.” But I think you also understand that we are walking on thin ice here and ice does not last long here in the south. We are not dealing with just anyone here. This is Cersei Lannister we are talking about.”

“I will help Sansa.”

“I can tell that you would. I know that. I can see that.” Baelish leaned back his chair, sighing. “Which is why I am going to tell you everything that I know.”

Petyr Baelish was probably the same age as she was now and yet Margaery felt every bit like the teenager she was pretending she was as the man continued on. For a man who barely grew in height, he was imposing. He spoke in a throaty voice, an odd accent she found she cannot place. “To be honest, I started suspecting at the beginning of the school year. But there weren’t any tangible signs yet.”

“Why not?” Margaery thought of the bruises, the marks on Sansa’s neck and legs. She thought of the spot that was beginning to form right under her eye when she found the girl on the shed.

“The marks were craftily hidden.” Baelish explained. “Sansa’s family all died in a house fire when she was eleven. She was the only survivor. Cersei Lannister’s late husband had been a family friend. Before he died a year ago, he had taken her in. For all intents and purposes, the Lannisters are her legal guardians.”

“What about contacting the foster system? The Child Consultation Services certainly has something to say about Sansa’s living condition.”

She could tell that her dropping that bomb surprised Baelish. “I have made arrangements.” He sounded appropriately mournful. “But the Lannisters had every one wrapped around their fingers, they have managed to curb away three inquiries already. Nothing came off it.”

Social work was by no means a holy field. There was still some corruption within the ranks. From what she gathered now, dialing an anonymous tip to the authorities would be a long shot, if indeed Baelish’s attempts had been rebuked as easily as he had made it sound.

“They are incompetent then.”

Petyr Baelish chuckled. The sound startled Margaery. “We need proof.” He said, looking earnest. “And the Child Consultation services needs that too. Once they have that, they can take Sansa away from the Lannisters.” There was a spark in his green eyes as he regarded Margaery thoughtfully. “You know what that means?”

That Sansa, one way or another, would not be in town anymore.

That, Margaery decided, was a choice she would not regret.

“If it makes Sansa happy, I’m in.”

Maybe, Sansa did not have to be a lone wolf anymore.

….

….

What she got from the conversation was that Petyr Baelish, at most, intended to wait until the winter break before doing anything. It would be too late then, she mulled as she strode defiantly along the walls. They had to act now. Winter would not come to Sansa if they dawdle too long. Margaery mindlessly drifted through classes, mind miles away. She wanted to believe that no one noticed.

The bell rang for the last time of the day, signaling the end of the classes. Margaery spied a familiar flash of red by the time she had turned a corner to the exit and found herself leaping into action. “Sansa!”

She was glad when Sansa did not sprint away at her beck but the time it took before she turned her face to Margaery was still unbearably slow. “Margaery.” She sounded exasperated.

Sansa was as put together as always and without squinting, she would have been the same pretty, unassuming girl who never bothered anyone. But there was wariness now in which she regarded Margaery which made every bit of the fading bruises she tried so hard to hide more visible. Sansa remained silent while she stared in wait for Margaery to say something. She looked every bit like a young girl expecting a confrontation and Margaery supposed it made sense. Sansa had made bold claims that Margaery was a fake, a liar. She never denied that she was just as much of one but Sansa most likely never have intended for Margaery to find out that way.

_Would you kill someone for me, if I ask you to?_

“Come walk with me.” Margaery finally said, taking the girl’s hand.

Sansa let herself be dragged without much protest, seemingly realizing that her submission might grant Margaery’s silence. They were quiet as they trudged together along the streets, hand in hand. Sansa’s hand was cold as ice and Margaery tightened her grip on it.

“I do not want to go home.” Sansa finally said as the park came to view. It was a reminder, Margaery realized. A reminder of the escape Sansa sought out desperately every single day. Margaery stopped, thinking about what should be said before deciding on one.

“Only if you let me join you.”

Sansa sighed in resignation and walked ahead to lead the way.

They came to Sansa’s usual spot, a patch of mown grass right in front of a big weirdwood tree. Now that Margaery thought about it, it was an unusual choice. Margaery could likely name thirty more spots within the park that had a much better view of the Blackwater and ten more that could provide an equal amount of solitude. Sansa sat on her usual place without speaking and did so while avoiding Margaery’s eyes.

Margaery was not counting the minutes in which Sansa had deigned to give her the cold shoulder but whatever it may be, it had to stop. “Sansa.”

“We have to talk about something, right?” The rise of tone surprised Margaery. “Since you were so insistent to join me.”

It was a challenge, one that Margaery expected. Sansa had been waiting for her to bring what happened in the Lannister home up and most likely had planned to have her join here to demand her silence on the matter. Margaery could already see the outcome of doing so. It would be a harsh negotiation and one that could probably do more harm than good. It was a textbook case of what not to do in situations like this. Margaery was an adult stuck in a teenager’s body and she should act like one.

“Weirwood trees are not native here.” she finally said. “I am surprised that they managed to grow one here.”

If her choice of topic surprised Sansa, the girl tried so hard to make no indication that it did. “It’s the only one around here. They typically only thrive in cold areas.” A ghost of a smile appeared on Sansa’s face. It was not amusement. “Northern things don’t really do well in the South.”

She remembered her poem in the student publication, the branches of the tree strewn on the page. The red of its leaves reminded her of the sunset in Sansa’s hair.

“This one’s seems to be doing just fine.” Margaery noted, prompting Sansa to shake her head.

“It’ll die in a few years.”

The grim pronouncement seemed to strike in a more personal level than any conversation about what happened could have. Margaery bit her lip when she reluctantly asked. “Are you a Northern thing, Sansa?”

For a moment, they sat on the grass, looking at each other without words before Sansa ultimately exhaled. “My family lived in Winterfell.” was all that she offered. Like when they met the first time, Sansa took to fisting the grass, tearing it listlessly off the ground. “They really did not do well in the South too.”

_The pack died._

_The lone wolf survived._

“What happened?”

Sansa looked at her like she was crazy for asking for more. Margaery could only send her a pleading look but relented. “You do not need to tell me if you do not want to. I mean—“

“They died.” And she left it at that. It was nothing that Margaery did not already know but hearing the raw but suppressed grief in which Sansa delivered the phrase was something she was never prepared for.

The breeze around the weirwood tree drowned the sad words and the only thing that Margaery could hear in her head are the words that she had repeated her within her ever since she found herself in this reality. _I would save her. I would save her. I would--_

“This big boy can still probably outlast your expectations.” Margaery blurted out as she gestured towards the tree. But now that she did, she took to note that Sansa may be right. The trunk was gnarly and the red leaves gracing its branches much fewer than it should be. Weirdwood trees in the dominion of the North could grow into twice in size but Margaery did not let that deter her. “This tree can still be around by the time we’re forty.”

“I probably won’t turn forty.” Sansa snorted and Margaery’s heart broke when she heard the truth in those words.

If this tentative friendship would continue that way it started, Margaery did not think it would survive all these awkward silences. But the lack of repartee after the depressing declaration from either sides let Margaery remember. _Of course. How could she forget…._

“You’re wrong you know.”

Sansa looked up, staring her down as if daring her to challenge her pronouncement.

“It’s not the only weirwood tree around here.”

…..

….

The mountain’s chill had no effect to Sansa.

When Margaery had come up here in her time, she had been alone. The forest had always been a fond childhood memory. Days spent endlessly frolicking around with Loras were always dear to her heart. But the mountain yonder had been off-limits. Margaery had gone once there when she was fifteen, really fifteen. She had been so desperate to be alone with her thoughts then.

 _Grandmother tried so hard to make you forget._ The days following the murders had been the hardest. Sansa had been found dead for days before the guilt finally snuck in and Margaery ran to the unknown like she was usually wont to do.

But Margaery was somehow fifteen years back in the past and Sansa Stark was very much alive. The unknown that had once been so fearsome was much more tempting now.

“I don’t remember agreeing to go.” She heard Sansa complain beside her. Margaery found herself grinning ear to ear.

“And yet here you are.”

It was their lucky day. The skies were clear and there was no cloud in sight. The full moon lit the dirt path. Margaery kept a firm grip on Sansa’s hands and it had become warmer than it had been. “I used to play around here when I was child. My brother and I.” She told the girl. “Sometimes, we are lucky to see foxes.”

“We have wolves in Winterfell.” Sansa was panting, clearly unused to the exertion. She paused mid stride, catching her breath. Margaery leaned closer and brought Sansa’s hand upwards.

“I’d love to see them someday.” She smiled as she pulled Sansa towards her. “Come on.”

The slope had dramatically steeped along the way. Margaery’s arm was already wrapped around Sansa ‘s tall frame by the time they reached the top. She was breathing hard, sweating. Sansa’s face was as red as her hair when she finally looked up at Margaery.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Sansa frowning was quite cute and for a moment, Margaery scolded herself for even thinking about the pout on the teenage girl’s lips because she was twenty-nine and that was just wrong. “We’re here.” And Margaery stepped back to show Sansa.

The only other weirwood tree in their town sat atop the mountain, thrice larger than the one at the park. The red leaves and white trunk were a stark contrast to each other, made much more pretty by the moon that stood majestically in the starry night sky. Sansa’s gasp was no longer that of effort but of amazement instead. Fifteen years ago, Margaery had seen it alone and no one quite believed her when she said it had been like looking at a Christmas Tree.

Sansa was still in awestruck silence when Margaery said. “I think this one will survive till we’re forty.”

She giggled and it was the most pleasant sound Margaery had ever heard in her life. _Oh no…_ “I would say so.”

“I’d like to see it again when we are forty.” was what Margaery let out of her mouth as she regarded the still impressed girl. She was beautiful, Margaery realized. In front of the weirwood tree that beat all odds and survived the South, Sansa Stark of Winterfell was beautiful. “Together.”

She was twenty-nine and she should not be feeling this way.

But gods forgive her, she did.

She was in big trouble.

For the first time since they met, Sansa smiled at her and it gave Margaery some hope and butterflies and more.

Maybe, they would be lucky enough to turn forty.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to see that the story is getting some traffic. I have chapters written in advance but I make sure to update if only I am around four chapters ahead so that I will be more motivated to finish it. I found that it is easier to keep track of things if I am at least two steps ahead. I am already writing Chapter 10 as we speak and I would like to think the plot is thickening. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think. Don't forget to leave your thoughts.


	6. i am really glad you brought me here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Margaery go on a date.

**Chapter Six**

It had not happened yet.

It was the week leading to her fifteenth birthday and Margaery watched Sansa more anxiously than ever. She could not remember what day it was, only that it had, for all intents and purposes looked like a normal one. Sansa had sat alone in the park like she usually did. Margaery had been on her way to the store. She could not remember what she bought, only that it seemed so important at the time. After getting what she wanted, she saw Sandor Clegane silently sitting by the riverbank. When Margaery cut back through the park,th Sansa was already nowhere to be seen.

All this had made its way to the police report. Within this week, Sansa Stark would become the first victim of a string of kidnapping murders that Sandor Clegane would be executed for. Safely getting through July 10th, which at the very least she knew was after the murders, would certainly change the future.

“You have become real close to that quiet girl.” Elinor, out of nowhere, remarked one day during lunch. The gaggle of schoolgirls around their lunch table all paused from their mindless teenage chatter and eyed Margaery with varying levels of curiosity.

“Her name is Sansa.” She pointed out, rolling her eyes. She wondered why she sounded so defensive.

“Shouldn’t you invite her to sit with us?” It was spoken with such honesty. Elinor had always had a good heart and never meant harm to anyone. But she was still prey to inquisitiveness of a young girl and could never resist a juicy gossip. “Let her sit with us, Marge!”

She already did, in the blind attempt to include Sansa in Margaery’s social circle. It was an exercise of futility but it was worth trying. “She has places to be.” She regretted how she sounded so evasive.

Her cousins were not the most perceptive or intelligent bunch when they were teenagers and thankfully enough, they forewent the topic of Sansa Stark to something more mundane. She nodded accordingly to each boy they gushed about or that TV episode last week or that really cute dress in the mall. Listening to them chat about anything under the sun made Margaery long for easy days where she could talk to Sansa about anything other than well-veiled quips and tragedy. Margaery wondered if Sansa was even capable of that.

“Earth to Margaery.”

She looked up, not realizing she had spaced out. Elinor was looking at her in askance, eyebrows raised in concern. “We were just talking about going to the mall this Saturday.” She supplied, clearly seeing that Margaery was lost. The other girls agreed, chattering amongst themselves excitedly while Elinor waited for their response.

Saturday, Margaery thought. There would be no school that day. Sansa would have stay at the Lannister home and be completely at Cersei Lannister’s mercy. It was a band-aid solution, Margaery realized when the idea came, but for now, she had to get Sansa away as far as she could and as long as she could.

“I’m sorry.” She made sure to add an inflection of regret in her tone. “I already have something for that day I cannot get out of.”

“Oh.” One of her younger cousins, Alla, was suddenly interested. “Is it a date?”

Fifteen years ago, the naïve and innocent middle-schooler would have looked away bashfully and blushed. But Margaery was twenty-nine and it was quite hard to feign naiveté. It would not be until years later that she would get the chance to tell her cousins that she did not exactly swing the way they did. She just shook her head and said. “Nah. I have plans with Sansa.”

But they did say they always suspected.

The collective _Ohhhsss_ was to be expected from her excitable relatives and she was hounded with a thousand questions ranging from indignation that Margaery did not think about including them in her plans to questions about her relationship with Sansa. When she found herself laughing easily at her cousins’ endearing antics, Margaery found herself wishing that Sansa was there, sharing this lightness.

But she did not want to impose unwanted company any more than she already was. With Sansa, she had to tread lightly. The girl had closed herself off so much, she probably had forever thrown away the key at the bottom of the ocean. Too many cooks would spoil the broth, was what she wanted to say. For now, if she had to do it alone, she would.

….

….

“Your friends.”

To say she was surprised that Sansa was initiating a topic was an understatement. They were sitting together during study period in the library, a perfect excuse for comfortable silence. if there was anything certain about Sansa, it was that she preferred not to open her mouth most times. She preferred places where no one would talk to her and the corner table beside the college-level reference books certainly served the purpose.

She had not reacted much when Margaery had seated herself before her besides a raised brow and a questioning glance. She could see that Sansa was still doubtful of Margaery’s attention but she did not seem to mind it that much anymore.

“They have been staring at me.” She elaborated without waiting for Margaery’s prompt, voice a little over a whisper. “Did something happen?”

The last question was almost accusing but the way Sansa’s lips pursed made it almost lighthearted. The girl could be cute too, especially whenever she was trying to be confrontational.

Margaery chuckled. “I told them I will be on a date on Saturday so I cannot come to the mall with them.”

“Oh.” Something unreadable crossed Sansa Stark's face. “A date?”

“Wanna hang out this Saturday, Sansa?”

She restrained the urge to giggle at the expressions that played on Sansa’s face. She blushed prettily at the dawning realization, prompting Margaery to wonder idly if Sansa swung her way too.

She tried to banish the idle thought. She was twenty-nine. She should act like one.

She wondered what a twenty-nine-year-old Sansa would look like. 

Strangely enough, she did not mind the idea. The fourteen-year old Sansa already held promise of traditional beauty that could rival Daenerys Targaryen. What would she look like, if such promise was fulfilled?

It was a full minute before Sansa finally responded verbally. “Miss Lannister told me that I should be home all day Saturday.” She sounded almost disappointed which sent Margaery’s heart racing. “Maybe, you can find someone else to join you.”

She was getting turned down, Margaery realized, unsure how to describe the bitter taste in her mouth. She frowned, finding the sharp feeling of rejection rather alien. “There’s somewhere I really want to take you though.”

“I am sure Miss Lannister would not allow me.”

“I can talk to her.” The words came out her mouth without thinking. “I am pretty sure I can charm her enough to let you join me.”

“I doubt that.” The disbelief in her tone would have been mocking if it were not for the wide-eyed hope Sansa did not quite manage to conceal. Softly, as she relented, Sansa whispered. “Where are you taking me this time?’

“Highgarden.” Margaery could not hold back a grin. “You must see it, Sansa. You’d love it. I know you would. There are all kinds of flowers everywhere and you would see colors you never knew existed before.”

If nothing else, Margaery had piqued Sansa’s interest.

The girl was staring at her open-mouthed, definitely at a loss. The expression reminded of a gaping fish. It was cute.

It felt pleasant. Somehow, giving Sansa Stark something to look forward to each day had become somewhat of a goal for Margaery. She did not know when she had known but she did now. Sansa Stark needed more than a chance to survive. She needed a reason to.

“Now. How does an ice cream after school sound, Sansa?”

….

….

Margaery could not claim to remember everything that happened during high school. Even without the trauma of being the last person to see a girl who later got murdered, it had been all terribly repetitive. Charity had been nothing new to her. The Hound had called it her pet project. The real Margaery had been kind to everyone but she had made sure that everyone saw it. Eventually, she would be elected as President, as Prom Queen, as the most applauded student in the yearbook. Margaery had been good at looking good but it all felt nothing in comparison to what she was feeling now.

Keeping Sansa from getting murdered would have taken her to her goals just fine and it would have let her save Loras. Margaery had never been a terribly religious person but she thanked whichever of the seven gods decided she deserved a second chance. But each day spent in this timeline made her question on whether the gods may not have done this for her after all. Perhaps, they realized that the world had been cruel enough to Sansa Stark. Perhaps, they realized that she deserved better than a butcher.

Eating ice cream with Sansa Stark made her giddier than she ever thought she was capable of. And it was odd, because she knew what this meant and this was inappropriate, because she was twenty-nine years old and should know better.

But it did not stop her from enjoying every moment.

It was half past seven when they decided to walk together back home, shoulders almost touching. It was already dark and Margaery knew for a fact that it was a norm for Sansa to loiter around the park well past that. Maybe, it had been a home to her more than anything else in the town was. Solace it might have been to her, it had also been her grave.

Margaery shook the grim thought away. She would not let Sansa be alone in the park again.

On the street where the Lannister home was, Sansa turned to her and raised her eyebrow questioningly.

Margaery sighed in playful exasperation. “I told you. I am going to talk to her.”

She could tell that Sansa had not taken the declaration seriously until they were mere steps away from her place of residence. Sansa’s grip on her arm hurt. The fear on her clouded, blue eyes hurt even more so.

Sansa vehemently argued against this, stubbornly staying put in the alleyway before reluctantly following when Margaery did not show any signs of budging. Margaery wanted nothing more than to reassure her that there was method to this madness. That there was a plan. That Sansa being hurt was the furthest of her intentions.

Cersei Lannister was the one who answered the door.

She was impeccable as ever, blonde hair braided so intricately she probably had her own hairdresser. She was still dress in what Margaery assumed were here work clothes, a flowing red dress that showed the curves in just the right places. Curiosity flashed in those stunning green eyes, still enhanced by mascara. Baelish was right. Cersei Lannister cared about appearances. And she would use that to her advantage.

Sansa herself never looked too shabby. The bruises were never visible and Baelish himself said that it took him a while to know what was going on. If Margaery had profiled her correctly, Cersei was the type of abuser that would prefer to keep the charade for as long as she could. Margaery had to play well to let her believe that was the case.

“Good evening, Miss Lannister.” She was certain the greeting did not betray her thoughts. Cersei only tilted her head towards Sansa who had hung behind her.

“Sansa.” Cersei addressed her ward, completely ignoring Margaery. “What have I told you about coming in late?” Her tone was stern, reprimanding. Margaery tried not to clench her fist.

She heard Sansa shift on her feet and could imagine her biting her lip. Margaery spared her from responding. “It’s my fault, Miss Lannister. I kept her. We were doing a school project and I guess time flies.”

It was only then that Cersei finally glanced at her. There was a flash of recognition that soon morphed into a distrustful frown. Cersei crossed her arms and regarded Margaery thoughtfully. “I did not know you have friends now, Sansa.” she remarked. Her tone was not kind. “You did not tell me about that at all.”

Sansa kept mum. From the corner of her eye, Margaery could see her dipping her head lower as she stared at the ground.

Margaery stepped forward and made sure she was on eye-level with Cersei Lannister. “I’d like to think we are headed to that direction.” She produced one of her most charming, reassuring smiles. It always worked. Coaxing abusers had been a daily rigor to her in her line of work. “I actually want to ask if you could allow Sansa to hang out with me on Saturday. We are planning to go to Highgarden’s Flower expo.”

Her brows visibly furrowed. “Sansa has a lot of things to do at home and she does not have a lot of time, time she cannot use gallivanting with some flowers.”

“It’s not just playing around.” Margaery hoped she did not sound like she was retorting. “It can be a learning experience too.”

“You can learn at home.” Cersei crossed her arms. “Sansa helps me at home during Saturdays.”

“Helps you? With what?” _Blow off steam?_ She managed to stop herself from saying.

“I don’t believe I’m obliged to tell you that.” She beckoned wordlessly for Sansa to come forward. Sansa moved, quiet as a mouse. She did not speak a word until she passed by Margaery and was standing beside Cersei. She did not meet Margaery’s eyes.

Margaery had resolved that she wanted to approach this with a clear head, every bit as diplomatic as how she was as an adult. When she thought about this day in retrospect, she thought that being a hormonal teenager may have affected her original plan. Something unbridled came forth as she observed how the headstrong Sansa who contradicted each of Margaery’s statements wilted right before Cersei Lannister.

“Why are you so determined to have Sansa stay?” She found herself asking, only to immediately regret it when she saw that Cersei did not appreciate the question.

“I can think of a number of reasons.” Cersei replied smoothly. She raised a questioning an eyebrow. “As for you, what do you stand to gain taking my surly ward somewhere?”

 _Saving her from your abuse,_ she made sure not to say. “A friend.”

Something dark and mischievous crossed Cersei’s face and it reminded Margaery of the sad lie Sansa had said when she had found her in the shed before. “Let’s ask Sansa if she wanted to be your friend then?” Right before Margaery’s eyes, Sansa all but shriveled in the attention. “Do you want to go with her Sansa?”

With bated breath, Margaery waited for it to happen.

_We were both fakes._

_I fell._

To Margaery’s surprise, Sansa nodded mutely.

It was clear that Cersei was just as surprised. Her muscles tensed and for a second, Margaery was afraid that she would hit Sansa, right there and then, witnesses be damned. But Cersei was a woman who took care of appearance first and foremost. “Get inside Sansa.” she just said, eyes not leaving Margaery. Margaery was just about to protest until Sansa’s voice, unheard for most of the conversation, finally said.

“See you on Saturday, Margaery.” Sansa could hear the dismissal in her tone. But when she met Sansa’s eyes, they were pleading for her to go.

“Okay. Sansa—“

The door was shut to her face.

…..

….

July the 7th was a clear day, every bit of what she could ask for. Margaery did not have to wait anxiously for Sansa in the venue. By the time she thanked Garlan for dropping her off, the girl was already standing outside.

She released the breath she was not even aware she was holding. Margaery waved and beamed at Sansa who tried to look impassive but failed.

Sansa was trying not to smile.

The look was an improvement from the sad countenance Margaery had gotten used to seeing. Once the greetings were done, Margaery took the time to assess Sansa. She had been terribly worried that Cersei would retaliate on Sansa after the episode the previous night but her judgment of Cersei was reliable. She was a woman who put appearances as priority. Cersei would not send her ward to a trip with a girl who knew everything if she had been black and blue with beatings.

Sansa, for once seemed to have been spared of physical abuse, if one would dare would put a name on the unusual lightness of her feet.

The Highgarden Flower Expo was something Margaery had always looked forward to every year. She had come here alone the last time as her friends did not really share her passion for flower arranging but something in her, for some reason told her that Sansa was different.

“They’re beautiful.”

And she was right. For every time they passed by a stall that was brimming with flowers of all colors, Sansa’s face lit up in ways it never had before. _No,_ Margaery found herself wanting to disagree. _You are beautiful._

Their aimless wandering soon took them to the Expo’s Winter Exhibit and Margaery wanted to hit herself for not being thorough with the itinerary. Sansa all but leaped towards the section, gushing excitedly over a stall bearing the title “Winter Roses”. ‘Gushing’ may be too generous for a term though. Despite the apparent happiness, Sansa was still subdued and lady-like, even when she was restraining a smile. She looked younger, every bit of the fourteen-year old she was denied of being. The sight made Margaery think of another red-haired girl in her memories, holding a winter rose in her hand…

The better part of the day was spent together in the company of flowers, with Sansa graciously accepting the yellow rose with red tips Margaery offered. They walked, hand in hand, stopping by each stall and Margaery making purchases despite Sansa’s insistence to not bother. By the time they paused, Sansa’s handbag was filled to the brim with souvenirs.

And yet, she could not shake the feeling that something about all this was familiar.

“I am really glad you brought me here.” Sansa said, finally smiling. It brought Margaery away from her daze, realizing that she had been thinking of the last time she had been here. The memory lane was still dark, with lines still undefined. But she was remembering enough to unsettle her. Last time, she had come here alone and whatever she was seeing now was something she had seen before. Including Sansa…

Sansa was still smiling softly when she added. “And I am glad I came with you.”

And as they walked out of the exhibit, the memories hit her all at once.

Sansa had not stopped smiling and Margaery’s heart stuttered when she continued on, undettered by Margaery’ silence. “How did you know I like places like this?”

Sansa was right.

How did she?

Because Sansa looked like a person who appreciated beauty? Perhaps, it was how she usually hung around the park where the flowers bloomed all year. Maybe it was because Margaery liked flowers too and she was looking forward to share it with someone. She could give a variety of reasons the other girl would buy and yet it all fell flat once the full realization sunk in.

Sansa’s lips were still turned up in a smile so playful and friendly, she looked like a totally different person. “Do popular girls like you…” And Margaery’s heart was screaming in her chest.

… _tend to come to places like this?_

And the memory lane was suddenly clearer and brighter now.

Margaery had this conversation before.

It was fifteen years ago. The same place, the same date. Margaery had come to the Highgarden Flower Expo alone and she ran to Sansa Stark by chance. Was this how she knew that Sansa would like it? Because deep down, she knew for a fact that she did?

Because Sansa had been here before.

“Margaery?” Sansa’s expression was one with concern now. Margaery must have been unresponsive for quite a while. “You are staring.”

Margaery exhaled, shrugged and willed herself to grin back. “That’s because we have a connection, Sansa.” she said lightly, in answer to her last question. “Don’t you dare deny it.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and continued walking, leaving Margaery to her thoughts.

Had she been repeating the same time?

She had intended to change the future, save Sansa and Loras but had she been unwittingly riding the same rail of time? First, Myranda and now this. If she wasn’t careful, Sansa would still end up…

Was she even changing anything?

Margaery banished the thought from her mind and ran forward.

When she took Sansa’s hand on her own, the girl blushed and Margaery’s heart leaped. This at least, she thought, watching as Sansa sputtered incoherently but did not let go of Margaery’s hand nonetheless: this never happened before.

After all, Margaery would have remembered the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.

Sansa smiled like a thousand suns that day and Margaery did not think she could ever forget that. 

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to tell me what you think!


	7. i'll see you tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fateful day arrives and Margaery realized that it would make or break her mission.

**Chapter Seven**

**…..**

**….**

Monday, the day before her birthday came and Margaery stared anxiously at Sansa Stark’s empty seat. It was still early and the class had not even started yet but the sense of foreboding would likely not go away until she sees the familiar red hair glide in, unharmed and alive. She stared at the clock, watched the hand trickle agonizingly closer to time. It was two minutes before it when she heard the sound that took the heavy weight settling her shoulders.

“Good morning, Margaery.”

The voice was music to her ears. She turned and Sansa Stark was there, in all her glory. She was smiling. “Good morning, Sansa!” There was no describing the relief that she felt as she took in the sight of the other girl. The lightness present on their date last Saturday somehow did not melt off during the Sunday that they did not see each other. Sansa Stark was smiling once more and it made Margaery’s, twenty-nine years old and all, heart pound. “You’re beautiful.”

There, she said it out loud.

Sansa’s cheeks flushed prettily and Margaery had to cross her legs to restrain the heat that churned in her gut. She was twenty-nine, an adult who had her fair share of romance, affairs and heartbreaks. How this teenager who barely bloomed into adolescence could cause her to act like this was beyond her.

It was the arrival of Petyr Baelish that spared her from seeing what would have been Sansa’s embarrassed but indignant response. Sansa hurriedly slipped towards her seat, avoiding Margaery’s eyes. During the rest of the class, Margaery had spent staring at the date Baelish wrote on the board. Sansa had disappeared right before Margaery’s 15th birthday. If it was still destined to happen, it will happen today.

Margaery would not let that be so.

Sansa Stark was not going anywhere.

After class, Margaery came up to her immediately. Sansa’s face turned red like it did once more, her eyelashes fluttering. Margaery dismissed it with a disarming smile.

“I will be watching the volleyball game later. My cousin, Elinor is on the team.” She grabbed a hold of Sansa’s eyes and showed her best puppy ones. Margaery just hoped that Sansa could not resist that. “I would like very much for you to be there with me Sansa.”

Sansa hesitated and bit her lip as she averted her gaze thoughtfully. In desperation, Margaery thought of any other activities that Sansa would likely agree to in case volleyball was not her thing after all. They could go to the movies, watch stray cats strut around. They could do anything.

“I want to go home early today.”

Panic rose within Margaery but she knew she should not budge. Not today. “Don’t be like that. Hang out with me.”

They could go for ice cream. Or in the bookshop, if that was her thing. They could even stay the whole day in the park even if it was the last place she would want to be in. As long as she was with Sansa, she could do anything today.

But she did not need to ponder over that any further because Sansa somehow, during her mental debate, had already reluctantly nodded. “Sure.”

Circumstances had changed since fifteen years ago. Sansa had been targeted because she was always alone in the park and for all intents and purposes, friendless. But this time around, Margaery walked with her, hung out with her and ate with her every chance she took. This time around, Sansa was not alone.

“The invitation still stands.” She reminded her. Margaery had talked to her parents about her preferring a small but intimate party with her cousins and some friends. The request had evidently surprised them but Mace and Alerie had been too fond of her only daughter to question her.

“I remember.” Sansa replied and Margaery beamed. Daenerys had responded in pretty much the same manner when Margaery had reminded her of her own invitation too. She had come to a tentative friendship with Daenerys in the past few days since she and Sansa had become friends. She seemed to approve.

Hours later, they were seated on the benches together, watching as the rival school completely overwhelmed theirs on the second set. Margaery was not enjoying the game very much, not with the amount of time she had to look beside and make sure Sansa was still there. The school’s competitive spirit was not helping in hyping up the girl either. Sansa, looking hesitant, broached the topic once more. “Margaery.”

“Yes?” Sansa was worrying her lip over as she guiltily looked at Margaery.

“I want to go home.”

Fear seized Margaery’s gut and it took her several seconds before she swallowed the huge lump in her throat. “If you wish.” She took Sansa’s hand and looked at her firmly. “But I am coming with you.”

Sansa shook her head. “No, please. You do not need to—“

Margaery squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. “Please, Sansa.” She did not care at this point if she was pleading. “I want to make sure you are safe.”

Sansa relented eventually, only because Margaery had been so insistent. They emerged from the school auditorium with their hands interlocked. It was a slow and quiet walk. Sansa did not bother to initiate conversation and Margaery was content to basked in the silence. Everything rode on what she would do today. If she managed to keep Sansa alive until after Margaery’s birthday, she could change the future. If Sansa did not want to talk about it, Margaery did not think it should matter.

It was all too soon when they finally reached the Lannister home. Sansa faced Margaery by the doorway, seemingly weighing something over before settling into a soft smile. “See you.” She bid awkwardly, her muscles tensed.

“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.”

Margaery had said it as loud as she could, a proclamation of her presence. She said it not only to Sansa but to Cersei Lannister inside, to anyone nearby, to the serial killer that might be lurking around. It was a declaration that she was here and she was watching.

Sansa hushed her, affronted by her exclamation. “Margaery!” she admonished with a rushed whisper, eyes wide but twinkling. “You do not need to do that—“

“I want to.” Margaery insisted. She reached out and wrapped her arms around Sansa who froze at the contact. She waited until she felt Sansa nod her head against her before reluctantly releasing the girl from her hold. It felt cold and Margaery missed Sansa’s warm frame almost immediately. Sansa herself did not seem too happy, seeing that she had not been able to restrain a blush from spreading on her face.

“I’ll have to go.”

Margaery waited until the door closed behind Sansa.

….

…

It was a sleepless night. Margaery tossed and turned the whole time before finally surrendering into the fate of being sleep-deprived on her birthday. It was barely two hours before she was supposed to but Margaery got up, slapped some water on her face and headed to the shower.

She did not have Sansa’s cellphone number. It was not for the lack of asking. Sansa simply was not deemed important enough for the Lannisters to have one. That bit was mostly unsaid. Sansa had an uncanny skill of evasion, answering questions without truly answering them. Children from abusive homes were prone to such effects and Margaery had enough experience to easily see through it.

She did not want to have exerted all this effort in keeping Sansa safe in the yet unknown serial killer, only to send her once more to the lion’s den.

Margaery had wondered many times if it was safe. While Cersei definitely was not the type of person who would stain her reputation by killing her ward within her home, Margaery could only use that to her advantage for so long. The Lannister home was the one place where Margaery could not extend her influence. If something happened to Sansa within those closed doors…

She shook her head, shivering despite herself. The water was so hot that it was steaming inside the bathroom but the chill churned her gut more than she could admit. Margaery did not come out of the shower a refreshed woman. If anything, the solitude afforded by the four corners of the bath did not in any way ease her worries.

“You are awfully early.” Loras was seventeen, a hotshot and cocky football player but he was still every bit like the brother she had lost. Margaery could not help but smile widely when he gathered her to his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Happy birthday, little sis. Though you are not so little anymore. Heard you did not want something big for today?”

“Just a girls’ night. Just me and the Tyrell cousins. Daenerys and Sansa too.” At Loras’ furrowed brow, Margaery explained. “New friends.”

“But that means—“

“Yes, Loras.” She chuckled. “You are not invited.”

She missed this terribly. Going back and forth affectionately was something she no longer had in her real timeline. If her brother teasing her early in the morning did not cement her desire to see this day through, nothing would. Getting through this day would guarantee a change in the future, an assurance that she was not just riding the same time rail. If Sansa survived through Margaery’s birthday, there was a really good chance that she could be saved. That Loras could be saved.

This thought was on her mind as she determinedly knocked on the doors of the Lannister home.

When Sansa Stark opened it, clearly safe and sound even when she looked like she just woke up, Margaery released the breath she had been holding

“Good morning!”

“Margaery.” An exasperated sigh. “Do you even know what time it is?”

….

….

“We are still good for today, right?” Margaery asked Daenerys. The silver-haired girl was the only person early enough to have beaten Petyr Baelish into the classroom. Sansa herself looked like a fish out of water. She was walking around the classroom, inspecting shelves and looking at the bulletin boards. Evidently, she had never had the chance to explore the classroom when no one else was around. All that time, Daenerys followed the red-haired girl with her eyes.

“Yes.” Daenerys turned to regard Margaery. “Will Sansa come?”

“Yes.” Margaery responded, to which the other girl only hummed in approval. “It would be a small party. Just you, Sansa and my cousins. If anything, it’s like a girl’s night out instead of a party.”

It had been the same last time too, Margaery realized. She had been in no mood for a huge party then, and the entire school population did not seem to question it after what happened to Sansa Stark. Margaery banished the eerie similarity from the thoughts. This time would be different. Sansa would be there. Daenerys would be there. She was not so guilt-stricken that she would spend the whole night sobbing.

She was able to change the future.

“That’s actually quite nice.” Daenerys remarked. The topic drifted to the itinerary and plans to meet up after school. Meanwhile, Sansa had been content to merely observe with one ear on them, not contributing any on the planning.

Elinor and company had been much less somber when Margaery had come to remind them during lunch. Sansa had come to sit on their table at Margaery’s persistent request which to her delight, Sansa seemed to let her get away with just because it was her birthday. Once again, Sansa had been forced out her comfort zone. She was aware how her cousins could be overwhelming and for someone who had been so used to being lonesome, it would have been like being robbed of air. Margaery had tried in vain to keep the first meeting as comfortable to Sansa as she could.

“Sorry about them.” Margaery said, as the bell rung and each girl parted ways to head to their next class. Margaery took the time to stand from her seat and Sansa had waited. “I know they can be quite… energetic.”

“They’re alright.” Sansa replied in a tone that suggested that she did not really mind. For some reason, this made Margaery happy.

“I had to buy some groceries for tonight.” She had insisted to do so herself to her parents, wanting more excuses to keep Sansa around. Margaery could not afford to send Sansa back to the Lannister, only for her to be locked inside by Cersei. “You should join me and then we go to my house right after.”

Sansa, like the previous night, looked hesitant. “But..”

“Come on.” And Margaery, once more, played the birthday girl card. “For me?”

Somehow for some unknown reason, Sansa could not resist that.

When she came to think of it, it had been her parents who had a hand in organizing her fifteenth birthday party the last time. She had been so despondent and sullen after the several police interrogations she had to go through that it had been the last thing in her mind then. She had spent the whole night of her birthday party wondering if being Sansa Stark’s friend would have made a difference, while her cousins ineffectively consoled her.

_It’s not your fault._

And now, they were. Friends, that is. Margaery realized as Sansa walked with her hands full of groceries, it did make a lot of difference.

This time, it would be different.

_I could save her._

The celebration would start at eight and she had agreed to meet with her cousins and Daenerys in the Tyrell home at least fifteen minutes before then. It was almost seven when she and Sansa arrived and Margaery could not help the jitters she was feeling in her veins. With this step, she had effectively changed the future. _I should have walked her home._ And now, she did.

It was the sound of a party pooper and confetti that welcomed them both when they opened the door.

“Happy Birthday, Margaery!”

Elinor and company were there and Daenerys too. Overhead was a homemade but festive banner that bore the same words they had just exclaimed. Loras was holding a cake, the candles already lit. Yonder, she could see the rest of her family sporting similar grins.

“Happy birthday, Margaery!” And there were more party poopers popped.

Margaery did not have words to say. “You—“

“You said you just wanted a girls’ night.” Loras explained cheekily. “But that does not spare you from a birthday cake, Marg!”

She shook her head in amusement, the love for her brother gushing through her heart. Loras had always been crafty in his own way. it would be the sort of thing that he would do, sabotage the attendees of her own party and do something like this. Bloody gay men. Elinor was probably in the plan too.

“We just wanted to surprise you.”

“I was surprised!” And elated. She had not had a surprise like this in a while. Birthdays as an adult were spent mulling about leaving the calendar numbers.

It had been a flurry of activity right after and Margaery was showered with gifts. Along the night, Sansa and her cousins somehow hit it off. Daenerys did not have much trouble socializing in a small group either. The night had gone so well and unlike fifteen years ago, the night was not spent in talking about Sansa and crying about missed chances because Sansa was there and she was very much alive.

And she was smiling.

“Margaery.”

When it was her turn to present her gift, Sansa had looked guilty. Margaery was about to comfort her that she did not have to go through such trouble before Sansa smiled sadly. “I’m sorry Margaery.” She breathed. “I did not have time to finish your present.”

“Were you working on something?” And then it hit her. _Do you like scarves?_

“Yeah.” And Margaery realized why Sansa had wanted badly to go home early in the past few days. “I had wanted it done last night when I got home but I fell asleep.”

The mental image of Sansa, dozing on and off as she knitted was so painfully domestic, Margaery could not help the erratic pounding in her chest.

“Don’t worry about it.” Margaery wrapped an around Sansa’s hunched shoulder. “You can give it to me next time.”

Because this time, there will be one.

After the party, Margaery had insisted to walk Sansa home and all the time as they trudged through the empty streets, they held hands. The Lannister’s front door had become less imposing the more times she walked Sansa there. It was just a door, even when it led to the lion’s den. But tonight, for the first time in the last few weeks, Margaery did not feel like she was sending Sansa to a death sentence.

_I could save her._

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sansa had not let go of Margaery’s hand yet. She squeezed it. “Thank you.” She was smiling. “I had a lot of fun.”

The words brought a lot of weight. It was left unsaid. Sansa was happy.

Margaery wanted nothing more than to kiss her right there and then.

She wanted to wrap her arms around this girl and never let go.

“I will give you your gift tomorrow.” Sansa continued, still beaming. “That’s a promise.”

“Yes.” Margaery almost gasped out. “I am looking forward to that.”

There was a clear debate that crossed Sansa’s features before it relented into a single decision. Sansa leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Margaery’s cheek. “Thank you.” She said once more. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Her hand on her warm cheek, Margaery drawled. “Good night, Sansa.”

There was no other thought that crossed Margaery’s mind other than Sansa’s lips on her skin. By the time she got home, everybody else had been sent home already. Her exhaustion had reached its peak then and all the tense thoughts vanished in favor of a good night’s sleep. Margaery slept like a log that night, thoughts of Sansa’s lips lingering at the back of her mind.

_I did save her._

…..

….

It was not a big surprise then that she was late to school the next day.

She had never ran as fast as she did that day and Margaery pondered ironically how she was more determined to keep a perfect attendance the second time around when she knew her perfect highschool records did not really matter that much. By the time she had reached Baelish’s classroom, she was five minutes tardy. Mr. Baelish lifted his head from the book he had been reading aloud and smiled at Margaery.

“So nice of you to join us, Miss Tyrell.” He announced, waving his hands dramatically.

She was panting and it was a huge effort to hold it enough to send a brilliant, apologetic smile towards Petyr Baelish. “Sorry sir.”

He had only acknowledged the gesture with a nod and went back to addressing the entire class. “Is Sansa the only one absent then?”

The words were like an entire waterfall crashing on her and Margaery froze.

_No._

An ugly feeling crept into Margaery that made her turn slowly to Sansa’s empty seat. Apprehension seized her, squeezing the muscles in her gut. Baelish was asking her what was wrong but his voice could just as well come from underwater. Her classmates were staring but she did not see them. All she had in her mind was how Sansa Stark’s seat was empty, _like it had been after she was murdered…_

_No._

_I could have saved her._

_I did save her!_

Sansa Stark did not come to school the next day.

And the day after that.

The last promise between Sansa and Margaery was never fulfilled.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been waiting for this chapter since the beginning and I hope it came out the way I intended it to. I am looking forward to your responses and how you felt. Updates are still regular as you can see and that is thanks, in part, to your wonderful feedback. 
> 
> Thanks everyone!


	8. and then it happened again

**Chapter Eight**

**…**

**…**

The first day Sansa Stark did not come to school, nobody but Margaery had been worried.

Sansa did not exactly maintain a pristine record in school so Petyr Baelish’s dismissive air as he mentioned Sansa’s absence was not surprising. Her classmates went on to their business, oblivious to the erratic pounding in Margaery’s chest. She tried to reassure herself. Sansa was most likely working on her present. She did promise that she would give it to Margaery today and she returned home so late the previous night, she might have fallen asleep immediately. Sansa was stubborn like that and judging from her dramatic reaction about not bringing a present, she likely would not go back at her word.

The thought only provided a temporary reprieve from the dark thoughts though. Sansa did promise that they would see each other tomorrow and yet she did not come to class. Margaery still could not shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

She sent a silent prayer to the gods, the ones that brought her here—whoever they were, hoping to spy even a sliver of that red hair in the halls. For hours that came, Sansa Stark remained nowhere to be seen. Margaery was desperate enough to almost skip the rest of the classes to come and spirit Sansa away from the Lannister home but the thought of Sansa, screaming for her to go away, like last time, ultimately held her back.

Classes took forever and when it was finally over, Margaery all but sprinted out of the gates. It reminded her of her first day in this timeline, chasing after the dream that Loras was still alive. Loras came home for dinner that night. She hoped, prayed that Sansa would be there too, waiting for her, just like Loras did, scoffing at her and asking if she had any idea what time it was already. The gods were good. They gave her this second chance. Surely, that must mean something.

Surely, they must have intended for her to save Sansa too.

When she frantically knocked on the front door to the Lannister home, there was no response. The house was eerily silent and her voice as she called for Sansa carried over the lonely walls. Sansa did not come out. Cersei did not come out. Nobody came out. Margaery tried to calm her breaths and attempted to regain her composure to think.

And then a horrible but _hopeful_ thought crossed her mind.

She retraced the same steps that led to the backyard, glad that she did not have to scale a fence to reach it. It was as dreary as ever, weeds overtaking what would have been a great space for a garden. It looked like it did the day she found Sansa inside. The wooden shed still stood imposingly at the center, unchanged. Margaery approached it, half dreading what she would see.

The door was unlocked like last time and when Margaery opened it...

… there was nothing. 

The shed looked more like a dump of clearly disused household items than a garage. Strewn around were dusty appliance ranging from kitchenware to a huge mattress at the corner. Sansa was not there and Margaery did not know what to feel. Somewhere in her throat, a scream of frustration and anger was bubbling.

Hanging around the Lannister home into the hours of the night proved to be fruitless. She did not see Sansa. She did not see Cersei. The house remained quiet and that did not spare Margaery from the awful voices telling her that she failed.

That day, July 11th, Sansa Stark disappeared.

Just like last time.

….

…

The police, like last time, came to question her.

But this time, it had been at Margaery’s call. Apparently, Cersei had not at all reported her ward missing, even after two days. Only when Margaery called the police that some attention was brought to a girl who had been absent from school for days. The Lannister’s inaction did raise some eyebrows and promptly, Cersei was brought in to be questioned. So when the police came to Margaery, the line of inquiry felt more personal.

But all that Margaery could tell them, in addition to what she did fifteen years ago, was Cersei Lannister’s abuse and her own friendship with Sansa. A day later, she saw a police car parked outside the Lannister residence. Cersei Lannister, despite being invited for questioning as the prime suspect, adamantly maintained that she had no knowledge of Sansa Stark’s whereabouts. The police car would remain camped outside her home for the next several days.

The police had been nice and accommodating to her family when they came to talk to Margaery and there was a spark of admiration in Loras’ eyes when he shook their hands. Margaery remembered then that Loras had only wanted to join the police force after seeing them at their home the first time. It was happening again. In the future, Loras himself would take interest in the Sansa Stark case. In the future, he would be murdered for it.

It was coming full circle.

_I could have saved…_

And Margaery could not stop it all.

“I know how important this is to you, Margaery.” Daenerys said on the fifth day that Sansa Stark was not at school. By now, the entire student body had heard of the true details. The press could not be muzzled for so long after all. It was Ted Bundy all over again. Daenerys had sat Margaery that day on the library and held her violently trembling hand. “But you should not blame yourself.”

Margaery kept her eyes downcast. She could not bear to look at Daenerys, could not bear to see the judgment in her eyes. In silver hair and purple eyes, she would see red and blue. Margaery could not bear to see Sansa judging her too. “I did not even make a difference.”

She could tell that the other kids were all looking at her in a mixture of pity and curiosity. She had been seen with Sansa Stark multiple times and she was, for all intents and purposes, once more, the last person to see her alive. It was all so terribly familiar. Margaery did not feel like she was given a second chance by the gods after all. Perhaps, it was punishment. What she did to deserve this, she was not sure.

She felt more than saw Daenerys shake her head. “I do not know about that.”

Margaery looked up. “I just wanted to make sure she was never alone” Margaery murmured. “…that she never felt that way. That she has friends.”

“Then you succeeded.” The girl argued, determination seeping in her tone. “Sansa had been happy that night. I have never seen her so happy until that night. And you did that, Margaery. You did that. Nobody else but you did.”

There was bitterness in her tone and her purple eyes were glittering. Margaery remembered Sansa’s smile, the quiet promise of a present in the morrow. Sansa would never be able to give it to her. Not ever. “But it was not enough.” Margaery’s voice broke. “There must be something else, something else I must have missed.”

_I could have saved her._

But she ultimately could not, could she? She had been so arrogant, so self-centered to think that she could change the flow of time, just because she was allowed to.

Was she ever, even allowed to?

“Thinking that it’s your fault after the fact is pointless.” Daenerys locked eyes with her and continued squeezing her hand. “There’s only so much one person can do.”

The school intercom buzzed warnings and advisories about being out in the dark left and right. There was a certain wariness in the school atmosphere and suddenly, the danger that they have once just seen in the national news became a stark and frigid reality in their little town. Missing posters of Sansa Stark were hung on the bulletin boards, just like it did the last time. Her seat would remain unoccupied, just like it did the last time. Another girl would go missing from the next town over, just like it did the last time.

There were differences in details but they definitely have begun to go down the same flow of time as they did fifteen years before.

The police car camping out of the Lannister residence only appeared sporadically after the second disappearance. It would not take much to deduce that the investigation had taken the direction of serial abductions instead of a domestic abuse gone wrong. No body was found on the park, even when Margaery reluctantly and hopelessly suggested that it might be a good place to look. A third kidnapping made it to the news and Sansa Stark’s death became only one of a series, A statistic, instead of the tragic story it really was. Instead of the greatest regret Margaery ever had.

The next time Margaery saw Cersei Lannister was a full week after Sansa disappeared. She was just in time to see the woman emerge from the Lannister home, a huge black trash bag on her hand. Cersei did not see her and Margaery waited until the woman was back inside before running towards the trash bag deposited on the rubbish bin.

Inside it, were Sansa’s clothes.

The harsh reality came back crashing down to Margaery and a sob caught on her throat. She stepped away from the bin, knees suddenly weak. It was all she could take before she sprinted away, tears blinding her way as a soundless scream tore from her mouth.

_And then it happened again._

….

….

She found herself in her running clothes, fifteen years later and in her adult body with the rest of the King’s Landing population bustling in their morning routine. Margaery stared at her surroundings, open-mouthed as she surveyed the sight she had forgotten she knew. She felt a weight on her elbow, finding a pair of earphones stuck on her ear still connected to her smartphone. Ariana Grande’s latest hit was still blaring from the music app.

It was several minutes before the disorientation faded. The first thing she checked were the messages on her phone. Her fingers were shaking as she scrolled through the mails. Nothing stood out. The messages on her phone were those that she remembered reading already. The funeral arrangements had stayed the same. She still could see the same messages of condolences. Renly still had not replied back. Which only meant that Loras, was still murdered.

 _She’s back,_ she realized and fear swiftly gripped her. She’s back and she was exactly in the same place as she was the last time. _She’s back and nothing changed._

Perhaps, it was an incredibly lucid dream, one that she conjured while running in high speeds. Perhaps, she hadn’t been coping as well as she thought. But it felt real. The pain in her chest felt real. The tears in her eyes felt real. Sansa felt real.

_Sansa._

_I could have--_

Margaery found herself listlessly walking back to her apartment, suddenly feeling too drained to do anything else. She felt tears prickle on her eyes as she crossed the busy streets of the Capital, billboards flashing overhead. She wondered whether this was her punishment. Whether the same gods that put her back on time decided that a world without Sansa Stark should be also a world without Loras Tyrell too.

Her head was heavy and she wanted to sleep the day away. She sank on her bed, feeling the world’s weight on her shoulders and finally let the tears come.

…..

….

She was still twenty-nine years old when she woke up and Margaery wanted to smash the mirror when her tired, adult face stared back.

She remembered that she was still on her bereavement leave and so, she did not have to go to work today but the silence that greeted her would drive her mad if she was not careful. Her apartment had remained the same as it was when she left it for the fateful jog which would have not been unusual, had she not spent the better part of roughly two months in her fifteen-year old self’s body, trying to save a girl from a serial killer.

Her thoughts flashed on The Hound. He would be dead in this timeline too, executed weeks ago for crimes he insisted he was not responsible for. Loras, in the end, had come to the same conclusion. Before the thought took a solid form, she found herself dialing the number to the police station. “Yes.” She answered to an inquiry from the other end, all business after the customary condolences. “I would be available to pick it up at 4PM today. Yes. Thank you.”

She did not think she would be given access to whatever Loras had unearthed the night he died but she would at least be given back whatever personal affect he had in his office. if there was one thing Loras was bad at in his line of work, it was keeping things under lock and key. He would not be outright caught running his mouth about a suspect or divulge anything crucial about a high profile case but Margaery knew him well enough to assume he would have left something lying around that would clue her in on what he was working on.

If she could not save them, the least she could do was avenge their deaths.

The drive to the station had sufficiently allowed her to think more clearly, letting the buildings pass her by as she pondered over the last several weeks. Fifteen years ago had been yesterday to Margaery and she tried to piece together each clue, each piece of the puzzle. If Sandor Clegane did not kill Sansa and the others, it would have to be someone else. Someone, who found what Loras was trying to do. Judging from the situation, the police had dismissed the domestic-abuse-gone-wrong angle that could have incriminated Cersei Lannister like they did last time and stuck to the serial killer theory. Somehow, there must be a legitimate reason why they included Sansa as a potential victim of The Hound Murders.

She was admitted to the claimant’s section with a somber welcome. The deputy in charge of the reception desk looked at her with sympathy and pleasantly led her towards her brother’s cubicle. It had been cleared, with only several boxes neatly placed on top occupying the desk. The space was now devoid of her brother’s memory. His desk, once teeming with family pictures and those of Renly was nothing more than another area now being prepared to be given to another officer.

Two deputies assisted her in lifting the boxes. It was not much, she discovered after quickly checking the contents. The framed photographs were on a single box. Another was filled with office supplies Loras probably bought with his own paycheck. It was the third box, which Margaery held securely in her arms, that possessed more interest. Newspaper clippings, most of which were those that were circulated in her town around fifteen years ago.

There had been some in the recent child abduction case too. When Margaery arrived at her car, she flashed the two officers her best disarming smile. Predictably, their cheeks flushed.

“I am just wondering out of curiosity. My brother had been absorbed with this case and now that he was gone, I want to make sure it was on the right hands.” She made sure to inflect just a little bit of sadness in her tone, to appeal to their empathy. “But who is handling that case now?”

The two deputies looked at each other, questioning the other with a silent stare off. It was only a few seconds before they ultimately decided that a fallen comrade’s grieving younger sister was harmless. Surely, she just wanted to make sure her brother’s hard work would not go to waste. “It was given to Detective Jaime Lannister.”

….

….

They found Sansa’s body on July 20th, fifteen years ago, right in the middle of the forest where Margaery took her to see the only other weirwood tree in town. She was fourteen when she died. Sansa’s face was frozen in time as the black and white image stared back at her impassively. It was a school picture, one that many of them would have taken with a practiced smile on their faces. Not Sansa. Margaery wondered if she was the only one who could see the loneliness in Sansa’s eyes.

Four more cases followed after Sansa’s. it was only after the fifth that Sandor “the Hound” Clegane was arrested on grounds of his bloodied janitor cap being found on the scene. All five incidents compiled under The Hound Murders were on one manila envelope, with pictures of each victim enclosed with the case files. Included with the victims’ picture was a polaroid shot of Margaery’s fifteenth birthday party. This time, Sansa’s beautiful, red hair was much more visible. Margaery stared at the image and thought of how nothing much had changed in this timeline, even when this case had become more personal to Loras, having met Sansa Stark himself.

The envelope did not give her much of anything she did not already know beforehand. The Lannister’s involvement, however, was decidedly more prominent in the articles than it was the last time, even when Cersei would be soon exonerated due to the lack of physical evidence against her.

It was the second envelope that held more interest to Margaery.

There was another series of child abduction cases five years ago, all victims around the same age as Sansa was when she was murdered. The suspect was arrested three weeks later but he, like The Hound denied all charges against him. Similar cases were strewn throughout the other envelopes, with all alleged suspects vehemently maintaining their innocence.

It was a familiar pattern and she could see where Loras was going with this line of thought. A sense of apprehension seized her, feeling every bit like a prey being hunted by the predator.

Because what she had in her hands may as well be what killed her brother that night.

And it may kill her too.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like the second act of the story. Thank you for the overwhelming support so far and I hope you stick around for more.
> 
> Note: I have made some changes in the formatting. I haven't been written anything in Ao3 in a while until Sansaery and it was just now that I realized that indents looked incredibly off, especially in mobile. To make it more readable, I opted to have current format now.


	9. i am not going anywhere

….

**Chapter Nine**

**…**

**…**

It was Daenerys’ words that ultimately led Margaery to finding her phone number in the white pages directory. There was only so much a one person could do after all and right now, more than anything else, she needed an ally.

Nothing had changed. Just like last time, Daenerys still grew up saving people from slavery in the East, a lifetime of philanthropy for the cause of abused children because she could not save one when she was a mere teenager. Margaery had taken the pains to look up every interview she could find about Daenerys Targaryen before calling her. if nothing else, she would not be caught off guard asking help from a virtual stranger.

She gave her name to the secretary who pleasantly introduced herself as Missandei, hoping that their highschool friendship still held some weight to one of the most influential women in the world. Margaery have no way of knowing how they progressed in the last fifteen years and she did not have much in her to ponder on that. Thankfully, it was barely a minute before Daenerys herself came on the line, the cultured accent blaring on the other end almost indistinguishable from the quietly intelligent girl who sat beside her on Baelish’s class.

To Margaery, it was only days ago when she last spoke to the girl. To Daenerys, it was fifteen years ago.

“Margaery.” was how she was addressed, with Daenerys Targaryen drawing out what sounded like a startled but altogether, to Margaery’s relief, not displeased breath. “It has been a long time.”

They eventually arranged to meet in two days. There were some reminiscences that could not be exchanged over the phone. Daenerys would be in Westeros for the week and she could certainly get coffee with Margaery if she set the place and time. It was easy to talk to her, even when Margaery had been vague for the reasons she suddenly decided to call. Daenerys sounded like she was glad enough that there was an attempt to be in touch.

None of the portraits in the internet articles could have prepared Margaery for the beauty that Daenerys Targaryen had grown into. The once unusual silver hair framed the contoured face much more beautifully when the aquiline face was made mature by adulthood. At twenty-nine, Daenerys was almost ethereal and she smiled as she shook hands with Margaery. Margaery had always been confident of her own beauty but for the first time in years, Margaery Tyrell was made to feel inadequate in her own skin.

After the perfunctory show of greetings and catching up to each other’s business, Daenerys was quick to get to the point. She was as shrewd and perceptive as ever and it was easy for her to take note that Margaery’s sudden interest in getting back in touch was not purely friendly. “I heard what happened. About Loras.” To her credit, the condolence seemed more than genuine. The woman reached out to squeeze her hand. Some things did not change. “I am sorry for your loss.”

It had been weeks since Loras died in this timeline. The pain was still raw, especially since to Margaery, she did just see her sweet, older brother yesterday. She thought of Sansa and how she had been dead for fifteen years now. Her heart clenched and the tears threatened to fall once more.

“I remember him. He was really nice.”

Margaery froze at that. “You met him?”

“Of course.” Daenerys frowned in askance, looking confused. “Your birthday party.”

It was not a dream, Margaery realized, feeling something she recognized as utter elation. It had been her fear. That she did not make a difference. That it was all for nothing. Once upon a time, a guilt-ridden Margaery had celebrated her birthday alone. Apparently, in this timeline, she really did not. “Of course.” She echoed, the scenes now repeatedly flashing before her. Daenerys was there. It really happened. “Sansa was there too.”

And she was smiling

And now, she was dead, her lips were frozen, nothing more than a bag of bones in her grave.

“Yes.” Daenerys paused, prompting Margaery to go on.

“Loras thinks… thought… there is more to Sansa’s death than meets the eye.”

Daenerys did not seem surprised at the revelation. She leaned back, sighing thoughtfully. “I figured you would talk about this when you asked me if I still remember Sansa Stark over the phone.”

Margaery thought of Daenerys almost incredulous response. _Of course._ Like she was asking Margaery how she could even forget. Daenerys started rummaging from her bag. “I did not tell you this.” she said, fishing out a manila folder. “But Loras called me around a week before his death.

She handed Margaery the folder for her perusal.

Enclosed was the timeline of the events that transpired after Sansa Stark’s disappearance. Chief of them was Cersei Lannister’s eventual release from custody. Penned in a different color was a note that the police did not have enough evidence to convict her of anything. But the fact that this was mentioned meant that Margaery’s testimony may have drawn attention to Sansa’s home life, something that was never touched much in the previous timeline. The rest were unremarkable due to the fact that’s Margaery knew it unfolded in the same way as it did the last time. Sandor Clegane’s arrest and execution still happened. Loras’ murder still happened.

By way of explanation, Daenerys handed her a folder. “I had commissioned a private eye to conduct another investigation three years ago. It was around the time before I left for Essos. I inherited some money from my brother and the case just never stopped haunting me.”

“It’s my fault.” Margaery muttered, eyes downcast. “I could have saved her but I was pathetic. My mistakes made me partially responsible.”

“Thinking that it is your fault after the fact is just pointless.” Suddenly, a sense of déjà vu lodged into Margaery’s chest. Daenerys was looking at her with a somber, calm expression, her voice soft. “I wish I could have done something too but it is pointless to think about that. We cannot turn back time. I may not have been able to save Sansa’s life but at the very least, I wanted to give her justice.”

_But what if you can—_ Margaery stopped herself from voicing out.

Daenerys continued, nonplussed. “Loras found out about the investigation somehow. He had asked for us to meet, share notes and the like. He did not say anything from his own end but I got the sense that all he was looking for was some type of validation.” She sighed. “I should have asked for a name.”

The regret in her tone hammered a nail of a reality Margaery could still barely acknowledge. In this timeline, Loras still died. She exhaled, clenched her fist and met Daenerys’ eyes. “Why don’t we talk about what you know about… the past…” It seemed like yesterday to Margaery because in reality, it was. She choked. “Sansa Stark.”

And so, Daenerys spoke as Margaery thumbed through the second folder.

Sansa Stark disappeared on the night of July 10th, the night of Margaery’s birthday party. There were accounts that Sansa had been beaten by Cersei Lannister after an altercation involving Sansa coming home late and was locked in the storage shed. She was thought to have succumbed to her injuries and for a while after Margaery Tyrell’s testimony about Sansa Stark’s life with the Lannisters, the police thought they had just disposed the body somewhere.

But sometime between the hours of 11PM and 12AM, it was proven that Sansa Stark had disappeared from the shed.

Cersei Lannister, now more inclined to admit charges of child abuse if it meant she would be spared from a murder conviction, testified that she discovered the disappearance at 12:30 AM on the 11th. She called the Tyrell home, spoke to Olenna Tyrell and had casually inquired about Sansa’s whereabouts. Margaery had been sleeping then.

“I did not know about that.” Margaery drawled, taken aback. She wondered what else she did not know. She understood why the police took it as a form of alibi, circumstantial as it was There was no reason Cersei would call the Tyrell home if they had ended up _accidentally_ killing Sansa.

There were footprints found on the Lannister backyard. The prints matched the soles of a boot size only few men could wear. Sandor Clegane was arrested as the police went public with their version of events. Sandor Clegane killed Sansa by strangulation, photographed her corpse and dumped her body in the forest behind the park. But he would not be stopped until he killed four more, all of whom victims to a similar modus operando.

“The Hound would never do that.” Margaery whispered as Daenerys ended her story. She thought of the severe but kind man who fed birds in the park. He never would have done that. He never would have done that to Sansa.

“Loras must have thought so.” Daenerys replied, leaning closer. “I told him about a similar case in the Riverlands a year prior to Sansa Stark’s murder. The culprit was quickly arrested but like Sandor Clegane, he denied all of the charges.” Daenerys’ voice lowered. “Two months ago, a similar string of missing children cases occurred in this city that ended with the last girl reported being left in the side of the road, safe and sound. Days later, Jamie Lannister arrested the culprit, who also denied all charges against him.”

Margaery held her breath.

“Do you see where I am going, Margaery?”

She did. Oh, she did. And Loras must have too. Otherwise, he would not have gotten involved and he would still be alive now.

“Whoever framed those men in these murders is in this city now. He was a crafty one. He could bend history whenever it suited him to draw attention away from himself.” The rest was left unsaid but it would not be stretch to think that whoever they were, they killed her brother too.

….

…

Sandor Clegane was arrested after someone had seen him talking to a highschool girl in the park late at night. Photos of the missing girls at the time of their deaths were recovered from his room. Pedophilia-related publications were found. The FBI, like last time, concluded that even before the murders, Sandor Clegane had these tendencies.

All of which, Margaery had read from both Loras and Daenerys’ files. She had spent the better part of her day delving through the past, all the while praying that the next time she would blink, she would be in 2004 again. Because in 2004, Loras was there. Sansa was there. And they were both smiling.

But each time she did, she was still in her apartment in 2019, piles of newspaper clipping littered on her desk. She had pored through each one, read each and every article. So much foreknowledge would have been helpful then. She wondered if she knew as much as she did now whether she could have saved Sansa.

She ultimately did not make a difference. All she had done was to delay the inevitable. Had the gods been playing with her then? She had thought that fate had sent her there for a reason and so, she must have been fated to succeed. But the past had refused to be changed. It had been all for nothing.

Loras had kept copies of the photos found in Sandor Clegane’s possession. She had looked at each one save for Sansa’s. She found that it was easier to clinically approach the grotesque images when they were strangers. Sansa’s post-mortem pictures remained tucked unseen. Margaery was not sure if she could bear to see the beautiful girl, her sweet girl, as the lifeless bag of bones she had tried so hard to keep her from being.

It had been late into the night when a knock came into her door.

She was not expecting anyone and as far as she knew in the fifteen years that she skipped in this timeline, she still had not grown into someone who would have guests in the wee hours of the night. She had not been in a serious relationship for years. That one had not changed.

The polite raps on the door soon grew to insistent pounding. Margaery called out that she was coming but did not open it immediately. She tiptoed quietly and warily peeked into the peephole. Outside were two men, both in uniform the likes of which she had seen in her own brother many times. Something unpleasant seized her chest, reminding her of the night she found out that Loras… that Loras…

She hurriedly opened the door then, anxiously berating herself at her sudden lack of caution but by the time she had realized her hastiness, she was face to face with who she recognized to be Jaime Lannister from the newspaper clippings and another man she did not recognize.

“Margaery Tyrell.” The handsome man said, perfectly chiseled face looking at her sternly. For a second, Margaery could see the resemblance to his twin sister. Jaime Lannister being in the good side of the higher echelons of King’s Landing’s police force was thought to be monumental to the exoneration of Cersei from child abuse.

He was showing her his badge, all the while saying words she barely registered after he said the first, damning phrase. Behind her, she felt his partner inching towards her back as Jaime Lannister started reciting her rights.

_No._

“You are under arrest.” He finally concluded, nodding to his partner as she heard the clinking of handcuffs behind her. She felt a hand on her shoulder when Jaime continued. “For the murder of Daenerys Targaryen.”

_“No…”_

_She did not do it!_

Sandor Clegane had been framed. The man from the Riverlands was framed. She was being framed. Sansa was dead. Loras was dead. Daenerys was –

_No._

She backed away, words stuck in her throat. The two men stepped forward, sternly watching out for her next move. Margaery in her panic, did the only thing she could.

She ran.

She did not know where. She did not know why she did. But Sandor Clegane’s emaciated face right before his execution flashed into her head and she stopped thinking.

Distantly, she heard shouts behind her. Ultimately, she could not outrun two well-trained law enforcers and the last thing she felt was a buzz of electricity on her neck as the world went black.

_I could have---_

……

…

Margaery had never been one with religion but it was not so difficult to believe in the concept of a heavenly afterlife when the next time she opened her eyes, she was looking at a smiling Sansa, surrounded by flowers.

“I’m really glad you brought me here.” The smiling countenance soon grew into confusion as she held into Margaery’s gaze. Sansa Stark had never looked so beautiful until then. Was she in heaven, after all? “Margaery? Why are you crying?”

It took her a second of blinking the tears away for her to register her surroundings. The flower expo. Sansa Stark’s beautiful red hair. 2004.

_She is back._

_I could—_

“I am just glad.” She found herself wheezing. It was pathetic, she thought as she threw herself towards Sansa, consuming the lemony scent of the other girl. Sansa was too stunned to protest. Margaery burrowed her face into the girl’s neck and Sansa drew comforting circles in her back. “I am just glad you are here.”

There was a confession somewhere, something so apparent that she could almost touch it. if she was brave, she could almost say it.

“I’m not…” Sansa whispered, clearly still bewildered but attempting to console the sobbing Margaery nevertheless. “… I am not going anywhere.”

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Margaery gets another chance! Let us hope that she manages it this time. 
> 
> Keep the reviews coming!


	10. i have a plan

**Chapter Ten**

Margaery came home to dinner that night.

Loras was there, beaming at her like he did last time he found out she had been out alone with a girl. Her brother had known her better than anyone and her inclinations towards the fairer sex had not been a secret to him even before she had come out to her own family. It took a lot for Margaery not to burst into tears at the sight of a very much alive Loras. She had enough of getting confused looks from the people she had been lucky enough to get a chance with once again.

Margaery was determined not to have any regrets this time around.

She could feel it. This was her last chance. She could not, for the life of her, mess this up.

But her eyes must have been welling or something because the trademarked Tyrell grin dissolved into a worried frown. Loras stood away from his comfortable perch on the couch arm and inclined his chin towards her quizzically. “Trouble in paradise?”

She found herself chuckling mirthfully as she playfully dismissed him. Loras only shook his head in exasperation.

Dinner had been fun that night, even their family did nothing but bicker in front of the food. Olenna was relentless in her pursuit in stressing poor Loras out, who blushed and faltered each time her grandmother sniped good-naturedly at him. The woman would pass away in her sleep ten years later and Margaery felt a pang of sadness momentarily overcome her as she watched her grandmother laugh at her brother’s expense.

By the time she saw Daenerys Targaryen the next morning, Margaery had a much better handle with her emotions. Daenerys was still very much alive and still as quietly sophisticated as ever. Margaery realized that at this point in time, she had several lives in her hands. She could not afford to fail. Not anymore.

Daenerys greeted her and Sansa with a questioning eyebrow. They came to school together after Margaery had unceremoniously dropped by the Lannister home to pick her up. Sansa had stubbornly trailed behind her during their march on the hallways and it would have been normal if Margaery did not insist just as obstinately to hold her hand.

“Is this something new?” Daenerys asked, eyebrows raised. She sounded amused and curious at the same time.

The clear inflection in the girl’s tone made Sansa regain a sudden burst of her strength to shrug off Margaery’s hold. She was flushing fiercely, as she looked away anywhere from Daenerys’ growing smirk. Not for the first time, Margaery wondered if Sansa could be into girls too.

The thought sent shivers in her spine.

“Nothing wrong in hanging out with a pretty girl.” was all Margaery remarked on the matter. To which, Sansa’s face just reddened further. Daenerys’ chuckle was like music to her ears. She was alive. Loras was alive. Sansa was alive.

The casual chatter between friends was cut by the arrival of Baelish and he began talking about Dickens once more.

“By the way, Margaery.” Daenerys whispered amidst Baelish’s drones about Tiny Tim and Ebenezer Scrooge. The Ghost of the Christmas Past never gave Scrooge a chance to change what happened to him. Margaery was luckier apparently. “Have you already read the book I lent you last summer? The Agatha Christie one?”

This was new, Margaery thought, careful not to show her bemusement in her face. Daenerys had not asked her this in the previous timeline and it was odd for someone as studious as Daenerys to suddenly mention it during class. For the life of her, Margaery could not remember any book. After all, last summer to her was fifteen years ago.

She decided that if she had to lie, it better have some truth in it. “I am sorry. I haven’t had the pleasure yet.” She smiled sweetly. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Sansa had glanced back at her.

“You should read it.” The sentence reminded her of when Daenerys’ innocent prodding had led to Sansa’s poem. “When you get home.”

That night, after taking Sansa home and telling her and everyone who could be listening and in the loudest voice that she could muster, that she would be back to pick her up tomorrow, Margaery started to look for Daenerys’ book. But for all of her poring around her stuff, she was not able to locate it. She hoped Daenerys would not mind if she would replace it with a new copy instead.

The day before her birthday, Margaery decided to throw caution in the wind. It was the third time that she would be facing this day and she was determined to keep her eye on Sansa. Like clockwork, she came to pick her up in the morning, held hands as they walked toward school and had hushed the girl’s growing concern that they were getting unwanted attention. “Let them think what they want.” Margaery whispered, squeezing the other girl’s hand. They were soft and it fit perfectly in her hand. “I am just so happy right now.”

“You are weird.” Sansa remarked, face red but she left it at that.

Breaking the news to Daenerys was more of a challenge, especially since Margaery had no idea how she would react. Bookworms tended to become a whole, different person over a lost book. Halfway through the day, Margaery asked if they could talk in the third floor rooms. Sansa was somewhere with Elinor in a Chemistry class. The halls were deserted at this time of the day. Daenerys, as they reached the empty rooms, was looking at her expectantly.

“I just want to apologize.” Margaery started, sheepishly rubbing her neck to seem apologetic enough. She could not believe how nervous she actually felt. “I think I may have lost your book.”

Something dawned on Daenerys’ features, as though she just discovered something. Or more accurately, confirmed something. “Ah.”

“I’ll pay for it though.” Margaery added hurriedly. “If you just tell me where you got it…”

“Don’t worry about it.” Daenerys raised her hand in a motion of waving it off. She regarded Margaery with a searching look as the next words rolled out of her mouth. “It never existed.”

_Oh._ “Then why…?” Several questions flared into her mind. “Why..?”

Twenty-nine year old Margaery, gifted a third chance to make things right, would have said that nothing had caught her off guard in the past few days until today. Daenerys crossed her arms, pensively keeping her eyes away from Margaery. It took a long minute of silence before she elaborated. “How do I put this…” She began, sighing thoughtfully. “Let me start by saying this first. Recently, I’ve seen you being serious and it made me very happy. You used to always pretend even though you probably did not care about other people. You weren’t a horrible person. Far from it.” This time, she leveled Margaery with a knowing stare. “But I like you better now.”

Fifteen year old Daenerys Targaryen was eloquent, intelligent and every bit of an influencer that she would grow into. In that moment, it felt like they were back in that coffeeshop, fifteen years from now. In that moment, she felt that they were equals once more. “Except…” She plowed on. “I want an answer to this nagging suspicion I have.”

She took a step closer, facing Margaery squarely. “Margaery.” She said. “Who are you?”

The sense that Daenerys had known all this time that she was a fake, a fraud, a thief that stole her fifteen year old self’s body came back with a full vengeance. Daenerys took advantage of Margaery’s stunned silence as she continued. “It just felt like you became another person overnight. It was odd and I could not stop thinking about it.” She exhaled. “I realized you had changed the day I saw you looking at Sansa. I noticed Sansa’s cuts and bruises a long time ago. But I could not do anything. I always just looked on from a distance.”

Daenerys Targaryen who would grow up to be someone who did not shy away from distance. The girl who wondered if she could have saved Sansa Stark even before it crossed her mind. It had been her regret long before it became Margaery’s and her relentless pursuit for justice would later get her killed too. Just like Loras.

Daenerys’s eyes were starting to brim with tears. Brave and strong Daenerys, who would devote her life saving people just because she could not save Sansa. “And you addressed it right in front of my eyes. I was ashamed because I did nothing. I only realized that I should have done something when I saw you doing everything you could for Sansa.”

And yet it was Margaery who was taking all the credit.

“It is like something possessed you with a mission and told you that this what you will do.”

_I could have saved her._

A choking sound came out of Daenerys’ mouth and the tears were not flowing freely. Her voice was shaking with her valiant effort to rein herself. “I was ashamed. I was ashamed. “ She repeated. “All this time, I never thought you would like Sansa as much as you do now. I don’t know what made you do what you are doing but I am glad you did.”

Everything was suddenly clear to Margaery then. Perhaps it was seeing Daenerys Targaryen well into adulthood, still haunted by what happened to Sansa. Perhaps it was the girl’s normally composed front crumbling right in front of her. Margaery realized that Daenerys was real. And she decided to trust her. “Daenerys.” She began. “Sansa is going to be murdered.”

“What?” At another time, Margaery would have reveled on the plain shock in Daenerys normally unflappable façade but in this timeline, she only nodded sadly and smiled in determination.

“I swear. I will stop it.”

She was right the first time.

Daenerys could be an ally.

“I don’t know how you know that, Margaery.” Daenerys said as she took her hand. “But I will help you. In any way that I could.

….

….

For the third time, Margaery Tyrell would celebrate her fifteenth birthday.

But she was determined not to commit the same string of blunders this time. On the days leading to July 10th, Sansa would be safe for as long as she was never left alone in the park. The problem was mainly on the day itself. Whoever had murdered her took a risk and had abducted right from her home. It could even be the Lannisters themselves who did it.

But this time, she has an ally.

After telling Daenerys everything that she could without letting her in about her actual identity, the other girl had wholeheartedly agreed to help in any way she could. Truthfully, Margaery was quite relived at being able to share with someone.

“I will need to go somewhere today.” She whispered to Daenerys, as they walked back to class. Students trickled down away from the hallway, all energetic since it was the last hour. “I need you to keep Sansa company in the meantime. I’ll catch up.”

Despite their conversation just minutes ago, Margaery was still surprised at Daenerys’ eagerness to affirm. “I can do that.” She smiled. “You’ll see us in the mall. How long would you take?”

“Give me an hour or so. I’ll meet you guys at Dairy Crème at five.”

“You got it.” Daenerys had gifted her a book last time, something she never got around to reading. Margaery can be assured that Sansa will be safe with Daenerys in a bookstore.

Sansa did not seem very comfortable at the news that she would be spending the day with someone she barely knew. “I need to go home.” She protested, looking frantically between the two girls. Margaery had found out that this sudden desire to go home had been prompted by her determination to finish her present to Margaery. As much as Margaery wanted to give Sansa a chance to give it to her, it was more important not to leave her to Cersei’s presence any more than she has to.

“I’ll catch up, I promise.” When Sansa started shifting reluctantly, Margaery took her hands into her own and said, almost pleadingly. “Please, Sansa.” She squeezed the girl’s hands. “This is very important for me.”

Sansa frowned but did not object any further.

The disarming smile Margaery flashed her never gave her a chance to.

While Daenerys was attempting to cajole Sansa into some semblance of friendship in the bookstore, Margaery had to do a shopping of her own. The plan had barely solidified in mind before she had leaped into action and she did not even tell Daenerys, despite the promise made that she would let her help. The girl had taken Margaery’s words as indisputable truth, even when she had been vague in the details of how she knew things. Telling someone that she was from the future might have consequences she was not willing to risk yet.

Even when she desired change, Margaery still had to be careful. Drastic changes such as Daenerys’ involvement to the plan might lead to the unpredictability of tomorrow. She was determined, for now, to have everything transpire as it did until she and Sansa had parted.

The next day unfolded without a hitch and Margaery celebrated her fifteenth birthday once more. It went like it did the last time. Her cousins were as boisterous as ever. Loras was his usual, charming self and Sansa was smiling once more, even when she still looked just as guilty that she did not bring a present.

“It would be a good gift if you promise me that you would see me tomorrow.” Margaery assured her, smiling widely.

Sansa only frowned in askance. “We always see each other.”

_Not if you leave me,_ she resisted the urge to say. _Not if you die one more time._

Margaery just smiled. “Point taken.”

It was during the card games that Margaery decided that it was time for her to act on the plan.

She was aware that disappearing suddenly from her own birthday party was odd but Margaery did not have time to think about that now. Grabbing the items that she bought from yesterday, she headed purposefully to the Lannister home. It was a simple plan. Torch the Lannister shed. Cersei would call the police. And there would be too much ruckus for Sansa’s murder to happen. She pondered if she could just burn down the house too and Cersei along with it. She wanted to. If she could take her away from Sansa… If she could just get her out of the picture…

“Margaery.”

Daenerys had followed her. Across the street, the girl was looking thoughtfully at the bag in Margaery’s hands and she knew then that the presence of flammables was enough for Daenerys to deduce what she was up to. The girl was in front of her in a few quick strides and with a determination that surprised Margaery, Daenerys yanked the bag away from her trembling hands.

“Keep your cool, Marg.” She uttered and there was so much restraint there as Daenerys reigned the fear in her tone. She could not quite hide it. “It’d be even worse if you will be put away for this.”

She thought about it. There were endless ways that this could have gone wrong but it was the only way that she could think. She was desperate and Margaery knew that in her wide eyes and heavy breathing, it was now apparent to Daenerys how desperate she really was.

“Anything is better than Sansa dying.” She insisted, her voice trembling. “Anything is better than that.”

She realized then that it did not matter what happened to her anymore. It did not matter if she was caught. It did not matter if she was locked up. Time was a luxury she thought she had until it was cruelly taken away from her. Sansa’s death would only be the beginning of the downward spiral and all this time, she had been so helpless in stopping it.

“Didn’t you think this would cause a stir?” Daenerys’ voice was louder now as it escalated into a remonstrance. She looked older than fifteen years. “Did you not think of the consequences?”

“It was what I was aiming for.”

“Don’t do anything that will get you arrested then.” Daenerys whispered and the raw emotion came forth. It was anger. The firestarters were strewn haphazardly on the ground, with Daenerys looking at it in unmasked disdain. “I thought you said that you would allow me to share your burden.”

“Daenerys—“

“Just think of what your grandmother would say. She would be devastated if you were caught… if I was too late.” Daenerys then took her hands. “Let me help you, Margaery. Please. If you have to do something illegal, it might as well be something we can get away with.”

The last sentence took Margaery by surprise.

“I have a plan.” Daenerys sighed. “Now, if you can please just hear me out, we surely can save your girlfriend without you being arrested.”

….

…

Margaery thought that Sansa, at least would have noticed her absence.

But she was still as engrossed to the Bluff card game as she was when she left and Margaery did not know whether she wanted to laugh it off or sulk when Sansa did not seem miffed at her being gone for a while. Daenerys had hung back to dispatched the fire starters, reasoning that it was not destruction of evidence if no crime happened. “The birthday girl missing from her own party, however, is a crime in itself.” The girl had the gall to shoo her away. “Now go back to your princess.”

Her princess, apparently, was too distracted by making fun of Loras’s poker face that Margaery had been absolutely forgotten.

But when Sansa grinned at her as Margaery took the space beside her, it was as if all weight that hung on her back was relieved off her. She could live with that smile for the rest of her life.

“You should join us.” Sansa quipped, showing her hand. She was enjoying this.

“It’s a game for great liars,” Margaery scoffed back. “And I thought we agreed we are well past that point.”

With Daenerys promising help with a plan that sounded infinitely better than what she had concocted, Margaery felt like she could enjoy this party now in earnest. All good things come to an end though and sooner than Margaery would have preferred, the clock had trickled down to the late night. Margaery insisted to walk Sansa home once more. Sansa had protested like she did last time but ultimately relented when Margaery drew the birthday girl card. The streets were empty like last time. They held hands like last time.

But it would not end like last time.

Right there on the incandescent streets before they cross the distance back to the Lion’s den where Sansa would later be beaten until she was black and blue, Margaery proposed to Sansa. “Sansa, can I kidnap you?”

A flurry of emotions descended into the other girl’s face then, most of which seeming to question the validity of the words. Margaery smiled in reassurance and it seemed like it was that, more than anything else that led Sansa to agree.

“Yes.”

It was everything that Margaery was hoping for her to say.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am almost done with the draft btw and it most likely shall end at eighteen chapters, contrary to the planned twenty. I remember this chapter as being particularly hard to write. I am still not happy with how it progressed but it is the best I can do right now. lol. 
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	11. i will take responsibility

**Chapter Eleven**

It was times like these that Margaery missed the normalcy of cellphones. Despite being well-off, her parents were not keen on getting her one of the more advanced ones in 2004. Theirs was a small, close-knit town and there was no need for any additional mode of communication. Daenerys’ instructions were vague and each step they drew away from the center of the town seemed to make Sansa queasier by the second.

The direction soon took them before a run-down warehouse Margaery knew for a fact had been abandoned several years before. The gate was flimsy, like Daenerys said it would be and it was easy enough to squeeze through the gap made by rust and disuse. It was dark, with only a single beam from her torch guiding their footfalls. Sansa clung to her as they walked and Margaery tried her best to whisper the most reassuring of noises.

Daenerys’ voice caught Sansa by surprise and the gasp echoed in the empty walls, a gust of air bumping from one empty wall to another. Margaery could not help but note that Sansa would make a good horror movie girl.

“Sansa.” she greeted, slowly emerging from the darkness. In one arm was what seemed to Margaery was a roll of blankets. Deanerys was smiling tightly. “Come further. it is much homelier inside, I promise.”

She trusted Daenerys, especially after the episode earlier but for Sansa’s benefit, she ventured. “Are you sure about this, Daenerys? We do not want us getting arrested for trespassing.” The pitch black interior that she could see from where they stood did not stave off any of the anxious worrying she was feeling. Then again, committing arson to the Lannister home held just as much unpredictability.

Daenerys scoffed but thankfully, did not quip about the hypocrisy in Margaery’s words. “I’ve been in and out here for a while now.” Her eyes were on Sansa as she uttered cryptically. “You are not the only one who has to run away sometimes too.”

Daenerys explained that the building they were on was once a banking firm in its glory days. “It went under a couple of years back.” She mentioned, leading both Sansa and Margaery to somewhere that felt like a basement. Their footsteps echoed all around. Margaery felt Sansa’s arm tighten on hers. “The neighborhood kids avoid it, thankfully. Amazing what well-spread rumors can do.”

When they arrived at the destination, Daenerys seemed to have made true of her promise. They came across a room, well-hidden from any thrill-seekers who might go ghost haunting. There was already a futon at the corner and a rechargeable halogen lamp beside it. It did not seem too shabby and looked almost livable. The door leading to the room could be locked too. Margaery could not find any words to denote how impressed she was.

But Sansa apparently could. “This is a great hideout.” She remarked in awe and surprise, still looking around. Her eyes were now drawn on the stack of cup ramen on the metal safe. “Wow.”

“I’d like to live here myself too.” Daenerys noted, seating herself on one of the lower drawers. “Although it does not have a bath.”

“Living in a big house does not really guarantee happiness.” Sansa responded and Margaery could not agree more. “Do you often come here, Daenerys?”

She nodded and in the unnaturally yellow lighting, Margaery could see a shadow cross Daenerys’ face. “Whenever I wake the dragon, I run here.” She crossed her arms, watching Sansa. “You can stay here for a while, while we figure something out. Just make sure you do not make it obvious that someone lives here.”

“So you do know.” Sansa muttered. She glanced at Margaery uncertainly.

“I guessed.” Daenerys corrected. She leaped back to her feet, standing in full height. “Cersei Lannister would have no choice but to call the police in a few days and there would be more attention to what is going on.”

“I understand what is going on, more or less. What you are trying to do. I understand it.” Sansa responded. She directed her questioning gaze towards Margaery. “But what will happen in the end?”

“Whatever happens,” Margaery squeezed Sansa’s hand. “I will take full responsibility.”

Sansa was left to ponder on that thoughtfully. It was fascinating how a number of expressions crossed in Sansa’s visage, before ultimately settling into a smirk. “Well, if we are found out, I will just say I ran away and you guys just helped me because you are such good friends…”

“Sansa—“

“In that way, Margaery.” She wagged a finger at her. “… you won’t have to be arrested for kidnapping.”

In hindsight, it had been Margaery’s blindspot. Sansa, in this timeline, wanted to live too. Treating her like a passive participant was something she should refrain from moving forward.

Daenerys was shaking her head but she was laughing. “Whatever suits you fine, Sansa.” She said. She glanced at her wristwatch. “I need to go now, though. It’s pretty late. I’ll see you around, Sansa.”

Loras would go batshit crazy if she was not home soon too and it was a realization so painful, Margaery almost groaned. “I need to go too.” She stepped in and drew Sansa into a one-armed hug. “I’ll be back in the middle of the night somehow. I’ll bring some cake. Make sure to close the door to this room. I will knock three times.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” Margaery looked at Sansa’s face and impulsively placed a kiss on her cheek. “I still need you to give me that present someday. For now, seeing you safe is enough.”

Margaery and Daenerys were almost at the door when Sansa said. “Thank you.” Her eyes lingered on Margaery. “For everything.”

Daenerys chuckled. “We’re friends now, Sansa.”

Margaery agreed. “We will protect you.”

And so the door closed.

….

…

Olenna Tyrell was waiting for her by the time she got home.

It was too late for her grandmother to be up and it was odd enough to see her waiting for any of her erstwhile grandchildren, even when the one who was out was her favorite. But more than that, the reason why Margaery was momentarily unsettled by the sight of her was the fact that she had not interacted much with her grandmother lately and judging by the upturned of her lips as she surveyed her, Olenna was quite miffed.

“That took you quite a while.”

“Hm.” Margaery shrugged. She began taking off her shoes. “We stopped somewhere along the way and talked about this and that.”

“You are very close to that girl.” Her grandmother remarked, not taking her eyes off Margaery. “The redheaded one.”

“She is nice.” was all Margaery said before remembering a detail from Loras and Daenerys’ files, something that had ultimately been a huge part of the investigation in the other timeline. “Did you get a call from Cersei Lannister tonight?”

“No.” Olenna’s voice was suddenly high-pitched, rising to the familiar tone when she could tell that Margaery was up to something. “No calls, granddaughter.”

Silence reigned as they continued to thoughtfully regard one another. Olenna continued sipping her tea and Margaery walked towards the table. Her grandmother’s knowing eyes never left hers as she went through the motions and it reminded Margaery of the reason why she had not dared to interact much with her grandmother until now.

She felt like a thief, an interloper. Even when it was her own fifteen-year old self that she stole from. Olenna’s knowing eyes did not help. Daenerys figured it out on her own. How much more, her own grandmother?

“I will be out early tomorrow, grandmother.” she noted, taking a seat before the old woman “Please tell Loras that he does not need to panic if he does not find me in bed.”

“Oh you know, that he would.” More creases appeared on her forehead. “What is this business about Cersei Lannister? Why are you expecting a call from her?”

Margaery judged that telling her grandmother this much would pose no harm. Especially when she fully intended on taking responsibility for “kidnapping” Sansa. “She’s the redhead—Sansa’s guardian.”

“Oh.” Olenna whistled. “You are up to something with the girl.” It was not even a question.

Margaery chuckled bashfully. “Let’s just say that whatever it is, she definitely would be quite angry at me for the coming days.”

“I must say I did not expect you would inherit that from me.”

“Inherit what?”

“The desire to annoy those Lannisters.” Olenna wheezed and Margaery could not help but smile at the mirth. “And Cersei is just the worse.”

The sentiment did not surprise her one bit. “Tell me about it.”

She realized than more than anything else now, she needed an adult’s support. Olenna’s clear disdain on the Lannisters could be a factor that could help her finally sway Sansa away from their influence. Staying at the abandoned building was just a band-aid solution. If she wanted to save Sansa and change he future, she needed to trust someone other than herself.

Daenerys was the first step.

And if she had to choose, she’d rather have her grandmother on her side more than anyone else.

“You are not up to something bad, aren’t you?”

“It’s a secret.” To this day, Margaery did not know what possessed her to say that.

…..

….

The two hours that she stayed at home was spent tossing and turning more than anything else. This was another time she missed the convenience that were cellphones. Hearing her voice would have been helpful in this dilemma. At least with that, Margaery could be certain that Sansa was safe.

Dawn was barely breaking when Margaery finally had enough. She made sure to bring some leftover cake with her, as promised. Sansa seemed to particularly enjoy the lemon-flavored ones that Loras bought from some bakery in town. She took a quick shower, dressed for school and started running into the twilight.

She knocked three times, as promised and it was barely a minute before Sansa opened the door.

The breath she was not aware she was holding all this time was released as she sighed in relief.

“I did tell you I am not going anywhere.” Sansa indignantly pointed out and Margaery laughed.

“I know, sweetling.” She reached out for a hug. “I know.” She felt Sansa’s arms wrap around her frame and she felt like she could finally breath now.

Margaery did not know how long they stayed like that. It felt like time has stopped and in that moment, there was no one else in the world. No abusive stepparents. No serial killers. Just Sansa and Margaery, alone in an abandoned building, with no care to the world. Sansa’s fingers were stroking Margaery’s hair. “You brought cake?”

“I think you are only happy to see me because of the cake.” Margaery made a show of sulking as they parted. “How rude.”

“Can’t deny that.” Sansa stepped back to let Margaery go further inside the room. The futon looked slept in and Sansa herself seemed quite bedraggled. She rubbed her eyes, still creased with slumber. Sansa looked more than her fourteen years on Earth and yet, with her alive and well, Margaery thought she would not have her any other way. “Make yourself at home.”

They sat together, preparing the paper plates and the cake in sync. Sansa ate with such vigor, Margaery almost would be fine in offering her own slice.

“This is good.” Margaery said. Sansa raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve barely even eaten.”

“I was not talking about the food.”

Amid the yellow light bathing the sharp corners of the room, Sansa’s cheeks flushed pink. Outside, the cicadas were still chirping. “It’s the first time I had a night like this in a while.” Sansa started suddenly. “It felt like old days, camping with my brothers and sister in Winterfell. I did not think much of it then. I was too focused on being somewhere else.”

The sadness in Sansa’s voice was almost too much to think about. Margaery smiled tightly. “We will have a camping trip with my brothers this autumn. You should come with us.”

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t know if I will be able to.”

“Sure, you will.” And Margaery was not surprised that she herself believed every word.

Sansa seemed to hear the truth in those as well. She shook her head good-naturedly. “Okay.”

For the life of her, Margaery was unsure on who moved first.

But the next thing she knew was Sansa’s lips on hers, still tasting of lemon cakes, of hope and of everything nice in the world. She did not know where the plates were or the cakes but her hands were preoccupied in holding Sansa closer. She could smell Sansa’s breath. She could feel Sansa’s heart. _She is alive._ And they fall together, like the two halves of one soul.

When they separated to breathe, Margaery did not know how much time has passed but it did not matter when Sansa was smiling blissfully, her lips swollen beautifully. Margaery’s fingers caressed her cheeks. “How was that?” she asked, although she wanted nothing further than to swoop in once more.

Sansa only shook her head slowly. “Like kissing a desert.”

Margaery burst out laughing then, her nose buried in Sansa’s neck. She could live like this, she thought, burrowing her face further. Sansa smelled like peppermints. She could die like this. “But it’s cold down here so we might as well—“

She swallowed any word she might have said because Sansa was kissing her again and it was clumsy and unpracticed and definitely not the most skillful she ever had. She was twenty-nine. She should not be doing this. And yet, Margaery thinks that this was something she would not have any other way as well.

Everything that Sansa touched burned and for the first time in a long while, Margaery Tyrell felt alive.

……

…..

Daenerys Targaryen found them that morning in a position that would make poor Sansa blush like the tips of her red hair. She was smirking as Margaery rubbed off the sleep in her eyes. Sansa had long since disentangled herself from Margaery’s hold and was trying in vain not to catch Daenerys’ eyes.

Daenerys, meanwhile could not care less in making things more awkward. She was smirking and scoffing the whole time and despite how helpful she was last night, Margaery was sleep-deprived and embarrassed enough to snap. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“It’s morning. And you will be late for school. Both of you not appearing would be suspicious.”

Margaery could not help but admit that she was right, even when it was very difficult to leave Sansa alone. “Will you be okay?” She asked the girl, wanting nothing more than to take her into her arms again and kiss her senseless until they forget what this day will hold for both of them.

“I brought some books to entertain you.” Daenerys was grinning as she handed Sansa three paperbacks. “These are short, fun reads you can do in one sitting. We can talk about it later tonight.”

“Agatha Christie.” Sansa muttered in awe.

“I like my murder mysteries.” was all Daenerys said by explanation, looking at Margaery. “Let’s go.”

She was late, like the last time she was on the day after birthday. But this time, she had the studious Daenerys in tow to share the downfall in her teacher’s eyes and she would no longer feel that the whole world has fallen into her when Baelish announced that Sansa was late.

Daenerys joined her at lunch and thankfully did not mention anything about the state in which she found her and Sansa in the basement. Articulating the sudden change in their relationship while thinking about Cersei Lannister’s next move would be too much in one day. It had been an impulse, a force that pushed her towards acting on the attraction that had been bubbling in the surface ever since. While Margaery had always found Sansa attractive, it was only now that she got a taste of it that she started to desire for more. The surprise that Sansa shared it had been overcome with so much elation, Margaery was not able to think.

She was twenty-nine, maybe not in body but in mind. Sansa was fifteen. Margaery did not even know what would happen when all of this was said and done. Would she live the rest of her life in this timeline and wait 2019 out? Or would she be nudged back again to her time, left to figure out what happened between her and Sansa in the interim.

All of which felt too much to think about in the grand state of things. Thankfully, Daenerys could boast a clear mind in her head. “Do you think Cersei already called the police?”

Margaery was quite distracted still when she responded. “My guess was she has not looked for her yet.”

The last time had been on July 10th. Margaery had taken Sansa home before 11PM. In that timeline where Sansa died for the second time, she was beaten by Cersei Lannister. She was shut up in the shed, left there for the gods know why and sometime after 12:00 AM, disappeared.

At 12:30 AM, on the eleventh, Cersei called the Tyrell home. Days later, Sansa’s body was found in the forest, bound and gagged. She was reportedly strangled to death. Sandor Clegane’s boot marks were found in the scene. There were no signs of rape but forensics had judged that the only person who had enough strength to snap the girl’s neck was a male.

Cersei was never convicted for child abuse.

Sandor Clegane died while maintaining his innocence.

Whoever really killed Sansa was running around scot-free in her timeline. In the future, he killed Loras. He killed all those other kids. He likely killed Daenerys too. And he was smart enough to frame Margaery.

Margaery felt bile rise in her throat.

But this time, it was different. There was a huge difference in Sansa’s actions, Cersei’s, the killer’s and Margaery’s. Daenerys was on her side now and she realized she could count on her own grandmother too if things went badly.

Now that she was past July 10th, everything would be an uncharted territory. And it was somehow comforting: not knowing what the future held because wasn’t that how it was supposed to be?

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been busy irl this month and it was hard for me to find time to edit and write anything more than unsatisfactory blurb. Thank you for the reviews and kudos. Any form of response is much appreciated. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter because this is the proverbial calm before the storm. Tell me what you think!


	12. i did it for a friend

**Chapter Twelve**

**….**

**…**

The next morning, breakfast was already prepared by the time she got out of her room.

It was too early for the day for her mother to rise and cook for Loras and Margaery but there she was by the kitchen counter, humming to herself as the smell of bacon and eggs wafted in the air. Alerie Tyrell had always been a great mother, even when she was a tad too quiet sometimes and Margaery felt comfort on how that remained unchanged throughout the years.

“Your grandmother told me you would likely be going off early again.” She explained, as Margaery sat down the kitchen table. Smoothly, her mother started serving her the eggs and bacon, despite Margaery’s protest. “She did say you were up to something too.”

“Nothing bad, I assure you.” She grinned back to her mother as he happily dug in the proffered plate. “Good morning, mother.”

“Good morning, sweetling.”

Breakfast was good, as usual. Her mother’s kind, quiet smile never failed to brighten even the dullest of Margaery’s days. It was regrettable that she had to cut this short. Leaving Sansa alone for an extended period of time was a recipe for sleepless nights and an incredibly anxious daytime. Every waking moment of Margaery’s daily life became a moment to ponder Sansa’s.

“Mother?”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind packing some of those bacon and eggs for me?”

Her mother did a lot of things without question. Once upon a time, Margaery had thought her too subdued and unquestioning, a doormat she could never imagine herself of being and a wallflower in the midst of vibrant roses. But Margaery was thankful for once for her silence as she graciously accepted her mother’s packed breakfast. She kissed her cheek goodbye and leapt into the morning.

Three knocks later and Sansa opened the door. The basement remained unchanged from the last time she saw it, except there were clear signs that Sansa had not had the great sleep she had last night. “Tough night?” she asked worriedly, looking at the bags under Sansa’s eyes.

“I could not sleep.” She stated and as though on cue, yawned. It was quite cute.

Margaery brandished the packed lunch and beamed. Sansa regarded it thoughtfully. “Breakfast.”

“Wasn’t that yours?”

“I had it made for you.”

They shared their meals like how they usually did, seated comfortably in barely a breath away from each other. Margaery watched as Sansa brought the spoon to her lips, slowly munching through the food. She hummed appreciatively between bites. Margaery wondered if Sansa was even aware on how beautiful the sight was.

When more than once, Margaery found herself looking at Sansa’s lips, she wondered if Sansa even knew how beautiful she was and the effect she had on Margaery. Margaery, for her part, realized that no matter how much she understood Sansa’s attractiveness before, she had never really started thinking how much she desired it without feeling repulsed at fancying a teenager. The kiss changed everything. Margaery was surprised how right this felt.

Stupid hormones.

“I wish you have a cellphone.” She remarked, trying to distract herself from the increasingly inappropriate thoughts that were crossing her mind. They had not even talked about what the kiss meant. “You must be bored to death around here, Sansa.”

“Who would I text? You’re in school all day.” And then Margaery almost slapped herself. Of course. Smartphones were inconceivable at this point.

Sansa continued, somehow getting Margaery’s drift. “The books help. It is not so boring down here, I promise.”

Margaery smiled in relief. “We are still figuring things out. Frankly, we did not have much of a plan when we took you here. But we are hoping that we will get in touch with someone who can help us within the next two days.”

“Yeah.” Sansa responded with a grunt and with that, she finished her food. It was scraped clean from all sides. Feeling Margaery’s pleasantly surprised eyes on her, Sansa blushed. “It was good.”

Margaery could not remember who moved this time either but when she tasted her mother’s food in Sansa’s lips this time, she could understand why Sansa had been so ravenous.

….

….

Once more, she was late.

She had stayed with Sansa for so long, time was not even a concern. Margaery wanted nothing more but for the gods who brought her here to cooperate and slow time for once. Margaery did not even notice that they had spent an entire hour for a full-blown makeout session. Sansa had not had a shower for two days, her teeth not brushed and Margaery could smell the mildew of the abandoned building in her clothes but she would not have it any other way. but for the sake of not giving Sansa any reason to not kiss her, Margaery made a mental note of dropping by the store to get some hygiene stuff.

“So is Sansa the only one absent today?”

The words, no longer pushed her in the abyss of fear that had readily consumed her in the last timeline. it only served to distract Margaery from the pleasant thoughts of kissing Sansa again. There was no question about it anymore. With the way that Sansa kissed Margaery, the Stark girl definitely likes girls. Or at least, likes Margaery Tyrell very much.

It was difficult to restrain the flush on her face at the time that she should a little shaken at least.

Mya Stone asked. Elinor asked. Even Myranda asked her, albeit in the rudest manner she could muster. Tt was not a big secret that Sansa and her have been hanging out in the days leading to her sudden consecutive absences. Her staged response had been nothing more than a worried but noncommittal dismissal. Daenerys had been subjected in the same line of inquiry by their classmates. Sharing a glance between these moments was the only comfort Margaery found in lying.

Petyr Baelish, on the other hand, was different.

When he asked her to hang back to have a quick conversation with him, Margaery knew she was figured out. “I stopped by her house this morning.” She explained, not waiting for the teacher to prompt her of the details she has readily shared to several classmates already. “She was not there again.” She made sure to add an inflection of worry on her tone.

“I see.” Mr. Baelish’s brows furrowed thoughtfully. “You seem relatively calm about it though.”

“I don’t think panic would help me, sir.”

“That’s true.” There was a flash in his eyes that let Margaery deduce that the man knew more than she was letting on. Of course, he does. He was astute like that. He leaned back his swivel chair and continued. “I called Cersei Lannister in her office today.”

Margaery could not help it. Despite herself, she was curious. “And? Did she say anything?”

“She did not really talk to me.” A disappointed tone. “No one was answering from their house either.”

Why a subject teacher would invest such interest in a single student could be easily attributed to the fact that out of everybody, Petyr Baelish was the only one who ever saw Sansa for what she was going through. But Margaery could not help the unease from growing and festering inside her.

Perhaps, because Baelish was too smart for this charade, even when Margaery was struggling to keep Sansa’s location a secret. Not for the first time, she felt like an interloper in this timeline. The way in which Baelish was looking at her questioningly made her feel like she was not supposed to be here.

She told herself that it was more to protect Sansa rather than keeping matters to herself that she decided not to tell Baelish of Sansa’s location. 

But that did not mean he would have no part in it either. Whether Margaery liked it or not, she needed help. In a town where the Lannisters were powerful, Baelish was the one with enough direct connection to Sansa and thus would likely be much more influential in having the CPS take the case again. “Perhaps, it’s about time that you call the Child Protection Services, sir.” She suggested.

“If I call the police, would it not get someone into trouble?” He intoned meaningfully, one rich eyebrows raised.

Panic rose in Margaery, feeling the man’s eyes take her apart but in a flash of a second, Mr. Baelish’s sizing stare was then immediately replaced by an exalted smile. “I already called the CPS today though. It seems like they are going in tonight.”

She did not know if there was anything the Child Protection Services would even find. But the glaring fact that Sansa was not there would be a starting point for more questions. Cersei Lannister could bluff her way out all she wanted but she could not exactly cover up a missing child. It was all falling together so nicely. Margaery allowed herself a moment of reprieve and smiled at the teacher.

“Thank you, sir!” And for the first time since the encounter, Margaery felt genuinely thankful.

“I only wanted the best for Sansa.” The teacher muttered, his smile tight.

It seemed like Petyr Baelish was already moving behind the scenes after all and like the fabled puzzle piece in a jigsaw, he fit perfectly in Margaery’s plans. She ran out, after profusely saying her thanks, eager to tell Daenerys that Cersei could be taken out of the picture after all.

….

….

..

Whatever the Child Protection Services found in the Lannister home that night, Margaery did not deem as important as being stuck by Sansa’s side like glue. Sansa looked ethereal in the dim, green lamplight, even with half of her face hidden by playing cards. The girl, to Margaery’s surprise, was excellent at poker. It was not so much that she was able to hide what she was feeling. It was that Sansa could somehow convincingly fake it.

Margaery knew she should not be surprised. Sansa had endured more than anyone should have at their age. _We’re all fakes and liars,_ she did say once, comparing Margaery to herself. This time, Margaery was inclined to disagree. Sansa was neither a fake nor a liar. She was a survivor. The lone wolf that defied all expectations.

And Margaery was determined to keep it that way.

After her third loss, Margaery saw fit to tell Sansa more about what was going on in the outside world. “The Child Services is going to your home tonight. Mr. Baelish arranged everything.” She smiled, taking Sansa’s free hand into hers. “Once they find out what is going on, they will take you away from the Lannisters.”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

Margaery remembered what Baelish had said last time. When the Child Protection Services get wind of what was going on, Sansa would be rescued. In all likelihood, she would be fostered again somewhere far, preferably with a relative that would be much kinder to her. Which meant that Margaery would never see her again.

Apparently, Margaery herself was not as good in poker as she prided herself because Sansa added. “I’ll be fine.” She stood from her crouched position, choosing to move to the corner of the room where the bag she had brought from school laid neatly. “I will always be thankful to you, Margaery. Daenerys too. When I think about both of you, I get all warm and fuzzy inside. I do not think I will ever forget that.”

The resignation to her fate, her utter acceptance remained unchanged. But for once, Margaery was glad that this Sansa, actually was looking forward to something.

She was rummaging through her bag as Daenerys and Margaery exchanged curious glances when Sansa continued. “This may be late.” She finally stood back into her full height, shoving something on Margaery’s face. “But here is my present.”

She unraveled from the pack of crumpled wrapping paper not only a red scarf painstakingly knitted by a patient hand but a promise finally fulfilled after two lifetimes.

It felt to Margaery like she had been waiting forever.

“I did not realize you were so easily moved, Margaery.” Daenerys remarked after a while, smiling softly. Margaery felt her cheeks dampen and she chuckled.

“Sansa always had that effect on me.”

That night, the three of them laughed, all pains forgotten. Daenerys taught the both of them more card games than Margaery had ever played in her lifetime. Sansa, somehow, nailed each one like a boss. Margaery wished once more that she could suspend the passage of time, keep Sansa here where she was at her happiest, forever but the gods would not give her more privilege than she was already awarded. All too soon, it was time to go.

Breaking the inevitable to Sansa was always the hardest part. She always looked dismayed, even when she understood. But this time, silence did not lend itself in the interaction. Sansa took Margaery’s hands on her own and whispered. “Stay with me.”

The request had evidently startled Daenerys too, having gone into three days without such a demand from Sansa. She looked at Margaery and Sansa back and forth, eyebrows raised. A teasing smirk made its way on her lips, her eyes twinkling.

“If you two wanted some time alone, you can always tell me.” She said, pouting. “I can make myself scarce.”

The implication in Daenerys’ words came to Sansa in a fascinating series of expressions ranging from flustered mess to indignation. “I did not mean it that way!" She looked helplessly at Margaery. “It is just that I’m scared.”

In three days of her stay here, it was the very first time that Sansa showed discomfort. Daenerys herself seemed to have noticed based on the frown on her face. “Did something happen, Sansa?”

“Nothing really. It’s probably nothing.” Sansa averted her eyes. “But someone came here late last night.” She gestured towards the door. “I heard footsteps outside and some banging. It sounded like he kicked something, probably some of the boxes in the halls.” She took a deep breath. “I was scared.”

Margaery could not leave Sansa with the knowledge that someone unknown had come close to finding her defenseless the previous night. Daenerys suggested an investigation and they soon found themselves right on the spot where Sansa heard the sound. True enough, it was on the hall leading to the basement room. They found a bag hidden behind the boxes. It was not as dusty as the rest.

“Do they have security guards patrolling the property?” Margaery asked Daenerys.

“Not that I know of.”

Margaery struggled of any other scenario that could explain the sudden intrusion. “Maybe, a bunch of teenagers smoking pot?” she suggested, somehow wanting such a relatively harmless assumption to be true.

“I think it was an adult.” Sansa ventured and Margaery felt dread creep into her once more.

“Let’s open it.” Daenerys suggested even as she was already letting the items drop on the dirty floor.

Margaery felt her blood run cold.

There was a rope, a knife, a ski mask and a pair of boots she recognized from Loras’ case files. Margaery was the only one who recognized immediately what they were for.

Sansa was still in great danger.

In the previous timeline, Sansa Stark disappeared from the Lannister home. Footsteps were found around the area that led to the conclusion that there was a third party involved, its tracks matching Sandor Clegane’s unusually large size. Sansa was found bound and strangled days later, the first victim of someone who would kill more.

Margaery felt herself shiver. In an effort to keep Sansa away from Cersei Lannister, she had unknowingly led her to the other person who was out for her blood. “We have to get you out of here.”

The direness of the situation seemed to have settled between the three of them. Daenerys nodded. “I agree. This is quite creepy. We can’t have a pervert find Sansa.” She regarded Margaery with a questioning glance. “Do you have a Plan B?”

“Yes.” Margaery responded after a moment of thinking.

“It’s a shame.” Sansa looked down sadly. She leaned on the wall, sighing. “I did like this place.”

“It’s no good if a stranger can come over in the middle of the night.”

They packed Sansa’s things hurriedly, not wishing to stay in the building any more than they have to. Whoever they were dealing with was unpredictable and it would be too much of a gamble to wager that they would be safe even when there was the three of them. The priority now was to keep Sansa away, no matter the cost and even if she received an earful from her grandmother about kidnapping a girl, it would all be worth it in the end.

She had to do it, after all.

She had to change the future.

It was the first time that she felt so nervous in entering her own home. After all this secrecy, this straightforward approach felt off. Olenna Tyrell was already waiting expectantly in the living room. Margaery had phoned her ahead of time, even when she was vague about the details. She had her eyebrows raised as she sized up the supposedly missing Sansa before standing into full height and sternly looking back at her granddaughter.

“Margaery Tyrell.” She began. “Explain.”

Beside her, she could see Sansa and Daenerys shift uncomfortably. Margaery stepped forward and started.

“I did it for a friend.” She explained dutifully. “And I don’t want to abandon her,”

 _Any more than I already have the last time,_ she did not add.

Olenna Tyrell’s smile when she said that was all the approval Margaery ever needed.

….

Margaery did get chewed out first. Her father was none too happy of housing a runaway, especially when she was a ward of the Lannisters. It was only Olenna’s words that ensured Sansa’s uninterrupted stay. Margaery was careful on not letting Sansa hear any of this but the Stark girl had always been so perceptive, the frown on her face had never left even as she was led to Margaery’s bedroom.

“They’ll come around.” She assured, clasping Sansa’s hand. They were trembling.

She had pushed Sansa towards the shower, waited until the water started running and sat around with one ear in the adult’s conversation downstairs. The talks eventually hushed down to whispers. Margaery knew then from the triumphant tone her grandmother was sporting that she had prevailed.

Sansa was just out of the shower for a couple of minutes before Alerie suddenly knocked on the door. She brought with her fresh sheets, some pillows, cookies for snacks and a gentle smile towards her guest. This seemed to have significantly calmed down Sansa even before her mother said. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want, Sansa.”

Sleep came much easily to Margaery that night, with Sansa in her arms and their lips mushed together as a good night ritual. Sansa breathes gratitude in each kiss and Margaery feels that her last conscious thought was that of relief.

**(TBC)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost at the end but I must admit that the next few chapters are among the hardest to write. Thank you for the kudos and the comments! They are all so inspiring.


	13. i want to believe in you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is so late. We have been plagued by strong earthquakes lately and I lacked the presence of mind to update my fics even when I have written the chapter a long time ago. I did not have much time on my own either. Adulting sucks but well, it pays the bills.

**Chapter Thirteen**

….

….

It felt disconcerting when Cersei Lannister’s downfall happened and Margaery was not even there to see it.

She had been so closely involved already and more than once, risked her own neck to see it through. She had been overtaken by mere impulse so many times, she had wondered whether she left her original, calculating self back in her own time. Sansa had been staying with them for two days before her grandmother broke the news that Cersei Lannister had been arrested for suspicion of child abuse and that for all intents and purposes, had been forced to relinquished custody of Sansa.

Margaery never saw it coming. Olenna Tyrell being so instrumental in the denouement of the whole scheme as she allied with Petyr Baelish was something Margaery did not expect she needed until now. She had always thought the end would be dramatic, worthy of all the time travel shows she had seen made in _the next couple of years_. She was astounded at how easy it ended up being.

The first night that she brought Sansa to the Tyrells, Olenna had apparently contacted Baelish. The man, in turn, had let her grandmother in about his own interactions with the Child Protective Services. It all unfolded smoothly from there. Cersei had been so ruffled by Sansa’s sudden disappearance and was quite sloppy when being interrogated by the social workers. It did not help that there was no Sansa to present to them in the event that they would demand to see her. The conviction would not last long, as the Lannisters were a powerful family and would likely have enough connections to ensure Cersei’s release but for now, the restraining order stood like a safeguard.

“Would Sansa have to be sent into an orphanage somewhere?” Margaery could not help but ask. She had expected this. She knew full well that if she succeeded, there was a huge chance that she would never see Sansa again. But it did not hurt anything less.

Staying in their town still posed danger. The thought of Sansa being shipped away, far from the serial killer who had already taken her life twice was the only thought that kept Margaery from falling apart.

“Baelish was able to locate some estranged relatives in the Riverlands.” Olenna Tyrell explained to both of them. She regarded Sansa with an uncharacteristic, soft smile, one her own grandchildren rarely ever saw. “Apparently, your mother’s uncle is back from the military. You great uncle.”

Sansa did not know the man very well but apparently knew enough to assure Margaery that she would be safe with him. They did not talk about their impending separation, even as Baelish started arranging for a school transfer. Margaery relished the days of peace where Sansa finally had lost every reason to worry. The days of bliss where they kissed and giggled all day bled into a week and all too soon, Brynden Tully arrived to fetch his grand-niece.

He was a kindly, if a bit imposing, old gentleman. She heard her grandmother joke about something inappropriate as the Tyrells welcomed him into the living room. The exchange of pleasantries would have been ordinary, if not for the air of guilt that the man was projecting as he regarded Sansa. Petyr Baelish had given them a quick background before everything. Even before meeting him, it had been well-established that Sansa would at least be well-taken care of.

In the week that she lived under their roof, Sansa had become as good as family and the Tyrells had taken into sizing up Sansa’s great uncle like suspicious hawks. Loras had been particularly relentless in his questions, although it became apparent that despite being laconic and utter lack of charm, Brynden Tully was a decent man like what Baelish’s files had implied. They greeted each other with a familiarity that startled Margaery, something at the time, she simply attributed to Baelish having dealt with the custodial matters in the days leading to the present.

It had been agreed on that Sansa and her uncle would stay for dinner before departing to the Riverlands. The invitation extended towards their teacher too, whose friendships with the Tyrell seemed to be growing strong by the second. It was then, while Sansa excused herself to continue packing, that Margaery got the opportunity to talk to him. 

“Thank you.” She told him, smiling softly.

“I only wanted the best for Sansa.” He echoed the words he had said last time. Margaery now believed it.

“You helped us a lot. I could not imagine how things would turn out if you were not there.”

Petyr Baelish returned the smile and glanced away sheepishly. “No. You’re the one who got me into gear, Margaery.” He chuckled. “Your heroic efforts could not just end in tragedy, right?”

She could not, for the life of her remember, if she had heard about anything that happened about Baelish in the next fifteen years. She hoped, for his sake, that it was something good. “Sansa is going to be okay now.” he assured her.

She found Sansa in her room, the few clothes they had managed to get from her house still strewn around the bed. It did not take much perception to deduce that she had been taking her time. Sansa acknowledged Margaery’s presence like she had been expecting it and Margaery smiled as she crossed the distance.

She wrapped her arms around the taller girl’s frame, relishing her smell, her feel, the sight of her without a huge weight in her shoulders for once. In captivity, Sansa had looked ethereal, the sadness in her eyes drawing even a twenty-nine year old Margaery into her fold. Loving Sansa had let her thrown all reservations she had. But in freedom, Sansa looked all the more stunning. Margaery felt that she would like very much to see Sansa grow up.

And perhaps then, she chuckled to herself. Perhaps then, Margaery did not have to feel so guilty about kissing her.

Sansa joined her in her laughter as Margaery drew her closer. She put into mind how wonderfully their bodies fit, each freckle in Sansa’s neck and how her heart fellinto sync with her own. Margaery drew back to lay her forehead against Sansa’s, memorizing each contour of that beautiful face.

“Don’t be a stranger.” She whispered in between each pecks. “We have the internet. I’m pretty sure we can still keep in touch. We can chat like we usually do after school. We can Facetime everyday.”

The confusion in Sansa’s reaction was enough to bring Margaery back from her musing. “What’s face time?”

Margaery continued giggling. “Something from the future.” She replied, kissing Sansa full into the lips.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, only basking in each other’s presence. It was only when Loras knocked that they cruelly were snatched back to reality. Sansa was leaving. For good. And Margaery had no idea what would happen. Would she be sent back to the future? Would she stay and live this lifetime out? Only time would tell. For now, this was reality. Her time with Sansa was running out. At the very least, she knew it would not run out for Sansa this time.

“Thank you.” Sansa breathed, as she kissed Margaery’s lips slowly. “For getting me out of there.”

_Red leaves, white trunk, dying branch_

Sansa started fixing her red hair into an elaborate braid, dusting her cheeks with some face powder. The smile that lit her face made her more vibrant than her bright-colored clothes ever could. Sansa was alive. Sansa was here and she was smiling.

_You don’t do well in the south, don’t you, little tree?_

“Tell me about the Riverlands, will you?” she reminded her, watching as Sansa started tucking her possessions in her suitcase. “I have never been there. Or anywhere North for that matter.”

“I can take you there someday.” The promise made her heart set aflutter. Margaery felt that this one would be fulfilled.

_Red hair, pale face, cutting words that make a young girl blanch,_

“Don’t forget to send me pictures.” Margaery added. “I want to know everything that happens to you and around you.” She regretted how much she sounded like a possessive girlfriend. But it was what it was.

Sansa merely took it into stride. She shook her head in good-natured mirth. “Yes, mom.”

_Every day of my life I ask myself, would I ever be free?_

“You can be whoever you want now, Sansa.” Margaery started saying. She swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping her voice won’t break. “You can be anyone you want to be.”

“I know.” Sansa smiled serenely. “And that is all thanks to you.”

_The south grows flowers, my heart grows stone_

“I only wish that I can be there with you. Every step of the way.”

“You are. Always.”

_Winter in the north, all but a distant thought_

Sansa was right there in front of her and before Margaery could say anything else and once more, they were kissing.

_Red blood flows as bruises litter the bone_

Margaery could taste the tears in her lips.

_Makes me ponder, does it matter that I fought?_

“You were there when it mattered.” Sansa whispered, her breath on Margaery’s face. “Your presence changed everything.”

_The pack perished, the lone wolf is left,_

“And I know you would always be there.”

_Can I go to the place where they are kept?_

In her mother’s hometown, Sansa has a future and it was a bright one. The heavy feeling was gone by the time Sansa settled in Mr. Tully’s car and Margaery did not stop waving until the car was out of sight.

….

….

It did not stop there.

It did not stop with saving Sansa.

It was several days after Sansa left before she finally held into the finality that Sansa was safe and sound. The girl immediately found a way to contact her through the phone. They talked everyday about anything and everything. Sansa sounded happy enough and was by all means, enjoying herself. It did not take her much to make her playfully agree that it would have been even more perfect if Margaery was there.

But where Sansa felt satisfied, Margaery felt discontent seeping into her as the days passed.

She did not feel like a woman with her mission accomplished. There was something missing. It was as clear as though the gods hand delivered the notion to her. Because even when virtually Sansa had been taken away out of reach, the serial killer who did kill her twice was still at large.

Sansa was gone now but whoever the killer was, he was still targeting four more young women. Unlike Sansa, approaching them would take more than a walk in the park. Literally. She had zero connections with the victims and aside from barely recalling the details of how they were killed (thanks to her own inattention), she knew next to nothing about what was bound to happen. If only she had time to review the files Loras and Daenerys, she would have been more equipped.

But then again, whoever they were dealing worked fast, in both the past and the future timelines. Margaery was no longer just dealing with a childbeater. She was dealing with a murderer, someone who had taken the lives of her friends in several timelines already. For all she knew, it was someone they had already met.

She had zoned out practically everything that Baelish was saying during class that she had embarrassingly made a fool of herself on Virginia Woolf. The class’ atmosphere was much lighter than it was the last time. After all, in this timeline, she succeeded. Sansa was not murdered. And yet, there was still something that was nagging her.

“Margaery.” Daenerys called, as English class ended. Margaery’s beaming smile faltered at the frown on the other girl’s face. “Can we speak in private?”

There was this sense of déjà vu as Daenerys led her to an empty hallway. It was eerie, how the girl could see through her so easily. Just a single glance and Daenerys had already concluded that there was something in her mind. Margaery could only wonder how they never had been good friends until she went back in time.

Daenerys started without much preamble. “You were so determined in saving Sansa and you succeeded. It went well. Better than I would have thought it would.” She craned her neck thoughtfully. “And yet I could not help but think there was something else. Something you are not telling me.”

It sounded like an accusation. Margaery bashfully looked away.

“Didn’t you promise that if something was up, then you would share it with me?”

“I know I did.” Margaery responded with regret. But she could not exactly tell Daenerys that something had always been up. She was a woman out of time, trying to save lives. But the past has now changed so much, Margaery did not know how to proceed anymore. With Sansa, there was a purpose, a clear end. Margaery did not know the first thing about apprehending a serial killer. “It was too much of a leap.” She relented into saying.

“I want to make that leap with you then.” Daenerys proclaimed and somehow, that was enough to convince Margaery to tell her what she needed to know.

The news that four other girls would get murdered was not easily accepted. As Margaery attempted to make the details as vague as she could, Daenerys would ask questions that would challenge her. in the end, they settled into a common ground they both experienced. Returning to investigate the abandoned building where they found the incriminating boxes from was the single, most dangerous thing they could have avoided but it was the only starting point Margaery could think of.

Despite her obvious skepticism and questions about where Margaery got the idea, Daenerys did seem to agree that there was definitely something up with the boxes inside the building.

Especially when they found that those were gone by the time they arrived.

“Someone definitely took them.” Margaery surmised, stomping in frustration around the empty hall. Daenerys was looking at her in askance. “Do you remember the man who came here in the middle of the night? The one Sansa had told us about?”

Daenerys nodded but waited for Margaery to elaborate.

“I think it is our guy.”

Daenerys had been understandably inquisitive at the idea that there was a serial killer targeting teenage girls. It was something out of a novel or one of the CSI episodes that they still broadcast. “Margaery.” she exhaled. “I still have no idea where this is coming from.”

“I know it sounds stupid.”

She shook her head. “No, I mean I just want to know why you think that.”

“That night that we took Sansa away from here, seeing all those stuff made me think that this was exactly a perfect place where a serial abductor would keep his paraphernalia. I know it sounds insane.” She remarked when she saw that the disbelief in Daenerys’ face was not budging. “But I believe it. I was not trying to protect Sansa from Cersei alone. I was trying to protect her from this killer too.”

Staying inside the building made Margaery uneasy and so after only a few minutes of snooping in, she had asked Daenerys if they could leave. The other girl had looked pensive as they walked back together, brows furrowed in deep thought. Margaery had been too busy pondering as to what came next to notice that Daenerys had grown silent.

They were leaving the building before Daenerys spoke. “Honestly, I am almost completely sure that your hypothesis is nonsense.”

Margaery sighed sadly. It only made sense. It would be too much to hope that such a far-fetched thing such as a theoretical serial killer who had not killed anyone yet could be deemed by anyone a reality, much less a threat.

But when Daenerys continued on, it gave Margaery a little bit of hope. “But part of me wants to believe you. You told me this so you must believe in me too and I want to believe in you, Margaery.” She was smiling. “Just like Sansa does--”

“Wait.”

Daenerys barely had time to protest before Margaery dragged her unceremoniously to hide behind one of the overgrown bushes fronting the building. Margaery did not notice the hiss of pain as Daenerys scraped her knee on the rocky ground, all too focused at the man walking towards the dilapidated gate, a bag slung on his shoulders.

It was Sandor Clegane.

(TBC)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized lines were from the poem that Sansa wrote back in the earlier chapters. Poetry was never my strength so please forgive me if the quality is nowhere as heartwrenching as I intended it to be.


End file.
